From Time to Time
by Maire Grey
Summary: This is the second part of Ever After. Jareth has been calculating how to use theories of time, space, and gravity in addition to his own magical abilities to bend time so that he can take Sarah on the honeymoon of a lifetime. Per her request, they travel to 1920s Paris. You won't believe who they meet and Jareth's history with them!
1. 1 Charmed Life

"You never know the biggest day of your life is going to be the biggest. The days you think are going to be the big ones, they are never as big as you make them out to be in your head. It's the regular days, the ones that start out normal. Those are the days that end up being the biggest ones." – Sarah Williams

~ 1991~

It ended up being a wonderfully long starry evening. Sarah was able to talk to everyone, to begin to know Jareth's family, to see Ixonia and Finn falling in love, never more than 6 inches from one another. Toby was wide-eyed and thrilled at meeting Hoggle, Ludo, and Sir Didymus. Her father and Karen were speaking with Jareth's parents.

And most incredibly, her future husband. Jareth, the Goblin King. She giggled gleefully inside. Who would have thought? She watched him elegantly move from her family to her best friend Patrick, he even had kind words for Ludo, Didymus and Hoggle, and judging by Hoggle's lack of tantrum, doubtless got his name right.

Her fiancé. Her fiancé! She looked at him again. Tall, lean, with perfect skin and bone structure, his otherworldly eye makeup and brows only adding to his beauty and sense of menace. Just the perfect amount of menace – enough to make him fascinating as well as tantalizing.

Finn was playing host that evening. Never letting anyone see the bottom of their glass. She was starting to feel fuzzy and giggly when Jareth came and put his arm around her waist. He whispered into her ear, and she giggled. Then he kissed her, right behind her ear and begin playing with her hair.

"You know," he said quietly in his deliciously deep register, "I cannot wait to get you into the bedroom to celebrate our engagement officially." Then, he used his index finger and hooked it on the V in her dress to look down at her cleavage.

Someone behind him slapped him on the back. Sarah peeked over Jareth's shoulder to see Eimile standing there, hands on her hips.

"Buachaille muc!" She said to her brother, disgustedly.

"I do not believe anyone has ever called me that before. Seriously. Pig boy? That's as creative as you can get?"

Eimile grinned at him. "It suits. Now put that poor girl down and leave her alone. She has better things to do right now than be pawed at by you. She has friends and family to talk to, champagne to drink, a beautiful swirly skirt to swirl" - here Sarah looked down at her gorgeous pink chiffon skirt and twirled it around a little bit. Eimile hooked her arm through Sarah's and started walking her toward the champagne and hors d'oeuvres table. Sarah looked at Jareth back over her shoulder and saw him just shaking his head and beaming at her.

Before long, Eimile and Sarah had gotten into shots. It seemed that Above, Eimile had grown rather fond of them. So they were trying all kinds. Irish car bombs, tequila, kamikazes, Alabama slammers, B-52's and The Big Fat Elvis. After a while, Sarah couldn't remember what else. Eimile was a beast. She was going through one after the other, and none of that even phased her. Sarah had no idea how she did that. She had only had three and some tiny sips of others, just to taste, and that was more than enough.

"So." Said Eimile. "Do you have any plans for your wedding and reception yet?"

"Not really," said Sarah. "Because I didn't know when or if this were going to happen, I didn't make any plans. Jareth only said something about a handfasting, so that's all I know."

"Right. Do you know what a handfasting is?" Sarah shook her head no.

"During a handfasting, a couple will bind their hands together during the wedding ceremony (before, during, or after reciting their vows), in order to symbolize their connection and devotion to one another. It will involve some kind of lovely cord that you choose, and vows of course, that you choose."

"I'm guessing that you'll also want to do a wedding, like they do Above. I've seen enough of those while I was there to understand pretty much how they work. Don't worry, we will be combining the two."

Suddenly Eimile squealed in happiness. "We're bringing two different worlds together! Not to mention two different cultures! This is going to be amazing!"

Sarah smiled at her. She was right, of course. She hadn't thought of that before. And they truly would be doing that, as Jareth had already asked her to help guide some improvements on the kingdom.

"And," continued Eimile, "I know that you're a strong woman with a mind of your own. I know that because there's no way anyone else would go toe to toe with my brother, and just from talking to you. So I wasn't kidding when I said earlier that we are going to be fast friends."

Then she said, sotto vocce, "I have always figured that if Jareth can be stubborn and independent, so can I. After all, we _are_ siblings! Apparently, that doesn't go down as well when you're a woman, or a girl. I have an unfair reputation as the 'wild one', so just ignore anything he says about me."

Here she gave an adorable toothy grin, just like Jareth's, only feminine. Sarah was delighted to see this family resemblance. Eimile's hair, however, was completely different. It must have been long, but she was wearing it up in a loose updo right now. It was a dark shade of auburn and suited her blue eyes perfectly.

Sarah sensed before she saw Jareth come up behind them. He put his arm around Sarah's waist and said, "Now we really are going to be leaving."

Suddenly he looked at all of the empty shot glasses on the table and his eyes widened. "Eimile, what have you done to my fiancé?" He sounded like her father.

Eimile just smirked, completely unfazed by Jareth. "Oh, settle down. She only had three. The rest are mine."

His eyebrow was raised as he looked down at Eimile and started to say something about irresponsibility. Before he could work himself into a full on lecture, however, Sarah steered him towards the garden path leading to the castle. She rested her head on his chest as they walked away.

**Buachaill muc = BO – quell (with the 'quell' having a gutteral sound.)**

**Muc = MUCK **

**This was the insult that Eimile threw at Jareth when she saw him trying to look down Sarah's dress. It means literally, "pig boy."**

**Sotto voce - while this is an Italian, not an Irish term, I still thought I would add an explanation. To speak sotto voce to someone means to speak "under your breath", or more quietly than normal. It is pronounced****SOTTO - vo-chay. **

**Eimile = has many different pronunciations. The one I'm going with belongs to a family member of mine.**

**Eimile = EM-eel-eh ( when we say it, it often sounds like Amelia)**


	2. 2 Wishful Beginnings

"I'm just gonna keep my eyes closed, because this is like that moment in the morning when you first wake up and you're still half asleep and everything seems that things are possible. Dreams feel true and for that one moment between waking and sleeping, anything can be real." – Sarah Williams

~1991~

Sarah woke to a bright smile and the feel of the sun coming through the drapes, warm as a lover's kiss. She was conflicted. On the one hand, she wanted to get up and jump all over Jareth. HER FIANCÉ!

On the other hand, she wanted to just lie there for a few moments to bask in her happiness. No one could be this happy. No one should be this happy. But somehow, it happened. To her. Without opening her eyes she let her hands travel over Jareth's lean, muscled, and naked body. Mmmm. And he responded, turning over, and placing his arm around her while kissing her behind the ear and on the neck, a move that he knew she couldn't resist.

Then the bedroom door opened, and Eimile skipped in. She had a pen, a piece of parchment, and a board on which to write. She headed over to Jareth's side and said, "shove over."

"Wha?" "What the?" "WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE _**YOU**_ DOING HERE?"

He scrambled like mad to pull the sheets over his nakedness.

Eimile waved him off. "Nothing I haven't seen before. Now, are you going to shove over, or do I have to climb over you?"

When he didn't act fast enough, she nimbly hopped over him and made herself comfortable in bed right between the two of them. "Now here," she said, tapping the parchment with her pen, "This is what I'm thinking for wedding venues. I think we have a few good choices here. There's the whole 'woo hoo, it's the King, got to have a huge wedding thing,', but I don't know if you two are all about that. I've talked to father about it actually, and he said that nowhere is it written that you must have a huge, obscene, state wedding. The reason I even asked him is because, knowing you both, I had a feeling that you wouldn't." She said all of this so quickly that Sarah could have sworn she did not even take a breath.

Jareth had listened to this with one hand on his forehead, staring up at the ceiling. When there was a gap in Eimile's talking, he made to get out of bed. "Oh no, you don't!" she cried. "You've got a hand in this as well. It's your wedding, man! Show a little enthusiasm!"

Resignedly, he let his head hit the pillow and crossed his arms, staring up at the ceiling like a peeved child.

Eimile and Sarah began to have a discussion about particular venues, Eimile filling her in on things that she probably wouldn't know. Jareth refused to participate and just laid there. Like an angry slug.

Sarah had thought about something last night, when she and Eimile were doing shots. She wanted to make the wedding and reception open to anyone in the kingdom that wished to come. That meant elves, goblins, fireys, dryads, the talking woodland creatures, dwarves, and any other creatures she couldn't remember. That had her thinking that an outdoor wedding, in the clearing of a woods perhaps, might be the best way to go. She wasn't sure what the banquet would look like, however. As she brought it up, she expected a fight from Jareth on this one. And she got it.

Jareth, who finally roared into action said, "Sarah, while I know you think this is a bright and enlightened idea, I can give you about 100 reasons why it is not. However, that discussion will be between you and I - not the three of us. And _you_, Eimile," he glared right at her, "Since when did MY BED become a bloody meeting space?"

Eimile looked at him, puzzled, as if everyone getting together in a bed was something that happened every day.

"Since it's the only place where I can get you two together first thing in the morning," she said. "Duh." and then added, "Plus Finn told me about it."

"Wait – FINN has been in MY bed again?"Jareth practically thundered.

"He gives really good foot rubs," said Sarah, apologetically. She looked at Eimile, who nodded in agreement. "And he's funny," Eimile added. "You're not funny." She smirked.

Feeling as if he were losing control of his kingdom _and_ his bedroom, Jareth stalked out of bed and walked away muttering "bloody the fuck all". He didn't care that he had not one stitch of clothing on.

Watching him storm off, Sarah grinned, just appreciating the view silently. Eimile, though, just had to make things worse. "Woo hoo!" she cried. "Nice ass!" Jareth flipped her off behind his back without even turning around.

Several hours later, Sarah and Eimile had a rough sketch of the wedding and reception. The big gap, however, was the venue, and exactly who would be invited. Sarah dearly wished that Jareth were here to be a part of this. But it seemed as though he needed some alone time, so she was giving him that. Still, she wasn't going forward with any of this without discussing it with him first. After all, it was his wedding too.

Sarah knew that she did not want a large, formal, state wedding. She was relatively sure that Jareth did not either. That meant that he could not invite even one friend with royal blood from another kingdom. It would be seen as a snub to all of those who had not been invited. She loved the idea of it being an outside wedding. And as Litha, or Midsummer, was coming up, a favorite time for weddings, she thought that Midsummer would be the perfect theme. Therefore she wanted a relatively simple dress, maybe with a little bit of train. Eimile sketched out a beautiful gown with a slight train, Irish lace, and a sexy but still appropriate open back. Sarah knew Jareth would love it. She wanted her bouquet to be mostly forest greens and flowers from the four corners of the kingdom, as a tribute to them.

She knew that she did not wish to wear a crown. Firstly, because she had not been coronated yet. She did not want that to take away from the wedding, so they decided to wait for a while. Secondly, because it was too formal to go with the wedding theme. They finally decided on a crown of flowers and forest greens - something pretty but earthy, and often worn on Litha.

That was as far as Sarah wanted to go for now. She knew that she and Jareth would have to have a serious talk about who to invite or not invite. That had bearing on everything else they might decide, and she wasn't about to do that without him.

Eimile left, Sarah got dressed, and went looking for Jareth. Not in the throne room. Not in the dining hall. Not in the kitchens. Not in the library. Not even in the garden. Finally, she saw a little goblin that she thought she recognized trotting past her.

"Excuse me? Are you Dogbreath?" The little goblin stared up at her and nodded. His face had turned as bright red as a goblin's face could. He seemed tongue-tied in Sarah's presence.

"Perfect. Dogbreath, do you know where His Majesty is?"

Dogbreath pointed. This was not helpful. "But Dogbreath, can you tell me exactly where he is? What he is doing?"

"Archery range," was all Sarah could make out. It was followed by a lot of stuttering babble that she could not understand.

Sarah got down on one knee to shake the little goblin's hand. "Thank you Dogbreath. I truly appreciate it." Dogbreath looked like he was about to faint.

Once she had walked down to the archery range, where Dogbreath had pointed, she saw Jareth shooting arrows into a target. He was wearing leather chaps, it seemed. And no shirt. Just his medallion. It was hot out, and his skin had begun to brown and was slick with sweat. She stood there to admire him for a moment. As she walked up, he did not know she was there, and he was firing off arrows quickly and angrily. He stopped when he felt Sarah a few feet away.

"Yes?" He asked, not even turning around. "Have you and my sister stormed the castle yet?"

"No." She said softly. "I'm sorry that you're angry. That wasn't my intention at all. All we ended up planning was my dress and flowers, really. Everything else comes down to the venue and the guest list. I refuse to do that without you. As a matter of fact, I think that that decision, should be ours and ours alone. I think we should make our plans, and _then_ reveal them. Anyone who doesn't like them, well, that's too bad. This is _our_ wedding, after all."

She saw his back and shoulders relax. He put down the bow and turned around. "You know that I love you so much," he said. "So much that I would even let you make mistakes with this wedding that would be difficult to undo. I know that sometimes women have dreams about their weddings. I don't want to take that away from you at all. I just want to talk to you alone about some of the bigger decisions. Because, as you said, this is my wedding too. And it will be _your_ kingdom too, shortly after."

She smiled, nervously. "I only hope that I stand up to your expectations as The Goblin Queen. I'm anxious about that."

"You needn't be," he said putting his arm around her shoulders. "Just being Sarah will be enough."

"You know," he said, as he looked into her eyes, "We have just had and survived our first lovers' quarrel!"

"And here's to surviving all of the rest of them," she said, eyes sparkling.

"You know what couples do after an argument, don't you?" He asked.

"Noooo," she said, being deliberately obtuse. "I don't – "

He dodged toward her. "Then I'll just have to show you, Precious!" She screamed, grabbed her skirts, and took off running, a big smile on her face. She knew exactly where this was going to end, but the chase was so much fun.

**Litha = Litha is a celebration of the summer solstice, and also called Midsummer. The sun on this date is at its highest point. Certain monuments such as Stonehenge are designed to orient to the rising sun. **

**In ancient times, Midsummer was actually celebrated with bonfires. Litha rituals are varied because, for pre-Christians it is a time of gathering. The fires caused cinders to be leftover, and then people would throw the cinders on top of the crops to have a good harvest.**

**Litha is the first day of summer, so for that reason, many human traditions have left their mark on this celebration. Weddings take place in the summer, so dresses are worn. Many couples decide to make their marriage work with good fortune and certainty on this date. **

**Litha can be a day to do divinations on romance and love situations. Litha is also about having outdoor picnics or making crowns with flowers. June 21st is an auspicious day to have a huge party. People still gather at Stonehenge in England and Newgrange in Ireland to watch the sun through the rock formations.**


	3. 3 The Unforgettable Fire

"There's something to be said about a glass half full. About knowing when to say when. I think it's a floating line, a barometer of need and desire. It's entirely up to the individual and depends on what's being poured. Sometimes all we want is a taste, other times there's no such thing as enough; the glass is bottomless, and all we want...is more." - Sarah Williams

~1991~

The next morning, Sarah had decided to take a bath. She had told Jareth about her wish for showers, and she knew that he would see to it. However, there was something to be said about the luxuriousness of a bath in a very deep tub, which this was.

Foregoing her usual bath salts for bubbles, she had liberally poured a good deal of powder into the water and was now absentmindedly playing with them.

The door opened and Jareth stepped in. She piled bubbles on top of herself, unexplainably shy for some reason. He looked at her and laughed.

"You know, I have seen virtually every inch of you." He gave her a wolfish grin. She ignored him and turned her face to the wall.

"Ho! That's how it's going to be?" He was already naked, so he stepped into the tub behind her. He ran his hands through her hair and she tilted her head back, arching like a cat.

"Thought so," his silken voice said into her ear. She shivered.

Suddenly he surprised her, however, by picking up the sponge and gently starting to wash her back and arms. Then he ran the sponge in smooth strokes across her chest, avoiding her breasts. He began washing her neck, and then her shoulders.

He reached down into the water stroking her stomach and her thighs, avoiding her nether regions entirely. Reaching further, he ran the sponge down her shins and calves, all the way down to her feet. What was going on?

He then began innocently scrubbing himself with the sponge, as if she weren't even there.

She did, however, feel something at her lower back. "You're poking me," she said, annoyed that he was ignoring her.

"Yes, well, Captain Wobbly has a mind of his own in the morning," he said offhandedly. He continued scrubbing himself, ignoring her.

He stood up, stepping out of the tub and grabbing a thick towel. He handed her the sponge. "Here you go," he said, "I'm going to let you do your rude bits on your own."

His back was to her, so he missed her look of openmouthed outrage.

She finished washing herself, then huffed into the bedroom, where Jareth was dressing. She stepped over to her dressing table, where she swiped a bottle of jasmine oil and headed back toward Jareth.

Making sure that he could see her, she dropped her towel and began oiling every inch of her body. Slowly and luxuriantly. His eyes flashed for a second, then he got them under control and continued casually dressing.

"Love?" She asked. "Could you get my back? I can't seem to reach it."

He took the oil, and swiftly and efficiently oiled her back. There was not an ounce of seduction in it. She couldn't believe it.

"Heading to the library for a cup of coffee, love," he said. "Feel free to join me there or in the dining hall for breakfast." And he left.

What the hell kind of game was this? She could feel not only a slow boil building in her, but a sense of determination and competition. She stomped over to her armoire and flung the doors open. Since her arrival, she had been able to build her wardrobe on her own as she saw fit. Well, she felt bloody fit now!

She had many evening gowns to choose from that were extremely revealing. But it was morning and it would not do to look like she was trying too hard. She flipped from hanger to hanger looking for just the perfect one.

Finally! And this was one that she had not worn yet, so there was going to be a slight element of surprise.

It was a lavender silk dress with a long slit down the side which would show off her leg perfectly. It had a lace halter top, very flattering on her, with flesh toned fabric behind the lace. This way, it looked as if one could see something, but her modesty was still preserved.

She went to her dressing table again and this time picked up a small pair of scissors, ones that she usually used for trimming her hair and cutting stray threads off of dresses.

Turning the dress inside out, she began carefully cutting away the flesh colored fabric. When she was done, she held it up and smiled.

Jareth was on his second cup of coffee in the library when Sarah appeared. Not surprisingly, he thought, she had worn a silky lavender gown. Knowing that this color was very flattering on her, he noted the slit almost up to her hip. Her skin glistened with the jasmine oil.

And then he let his eyes travel upwards. This particular dress had a lace halter top, he knew. He was there when she ordered it. What he was not prepared for was the sight of her breasts clearly behind the lace. This was more like lingerie than a day dress!

She made no move toward modesty as she sat down beside him. "Care to get me some coffee?" She asked brightly. He licked his lips, closed his eyes and flicked his wrist toward the table where the coffee magically arrived.

Stony faced, he asked what her plans were for the day. "I thought," she began, "That you and I could do some talking about the wedding plans. Then for lunch, I am going to meet your sister, and my evening is free. You?"

This game he had started was beginning to get the best of him. But he refused to admit defeat, however delicious that might be. He thought he would see how far he could draw this out.

Sarah was feeling much the same way. Her stubbornness had kicked in and she would be damned if she gave into him now.

He mumbled something nonsensical about meeting with Finn and other advisors for the day. He said nothing about his evening.

They both carried their coffee cups to the dining room. The kitchen staff, as usual, had prepared something beautiful and delicious. Today it was eggs and bacon, shrimp with butter to dip it in, fruit, Champagne with orange juice to add if so desired, and strawberries with heavy cream. Oh no!

The eggs were easy. Sarah was very good at licking her lips luxuriously after every bite, however. She did the same with the bacon. Jareth was fuming. She took her champagne without orange juice, very decadent, and ate the shrimp slowly by hand dipping it into the butter and making sure that it glistened up her mouth with each bite. Slowly, she ran her tongue around her lips.

Jareth took his champagne without orange juice as well. But he failed miserably with the shrimp. One of the little buggers actually slipped out of his hands and landed in his lap. Sarah didn't laugh out loud, but he could see her eyes dancing.

What finally did it was the damn strawberries. Sarah dipped hers in cream and opened her lips to take a bite. Then she chewed slowly, never breaking eye contact with Jareth. She dipped another one in, this time using her tongue to slowly and thoroughly clean all of the cream off of the strawberry. She had a little bit of cream left on her lip, so she sucked her finger and then wiped it off. Next, she dipped just her finger into the cream, bringing it to her her mouth and drawing it out slowly between her lips, to get all of the cream. She smiled innocently at Jareth.

"You're playing with fire, little girl," Jareth growled.

She ran her finger down the front of her neck all the way down between her breasts. "Oh, I don't know. I'm just having breakfast."

She rose from her chair and, walking past Jareth, made sure that her bottom brushed his shoulder.

"That's it!" He roared, whipping his napkin off his lap and down on the table. She looked questioningly at him over her shoulder, eyebrows raised.

With a speed that surprised her, he grabbed her and shoved her up against the wall, pinning her there with his hard body. He held her chin firmly in one hand and stared fiercely into her eyes. She stared back just as fiercely. "What are you going to do?" She taunted.

"This." He snarled. And grabbing hold of her neck line, ripped open the front of her dress. She gasped and he smiled wolfishly. Clearly she wasn't expecting _that!_

He bent his head to her exposed breasts and bit one nipple. There was going to be nothing gentle about _this_! He sucked on her nipple and then licked his way over to the next one, where he bit it, and then proceeded to suck on it while she gasped and writhed beneath him.

She dug her fingers into his thick hair and held his head to her breast. One of his lean, muscled thighs pushed its way between her legs. She could feel herself becoming even wetter once she felt his heat.

He raised his head to her neck where he began sucking on the sensitive part between her neck and shoulder. He knew this drove her wild. He loved the way he was heating up her body. In a voice that did not even sound human, he growled into her ear, "You have no idea what you have started. I am going to shove myself inside your soft, wet sweetness as deep as I can. I'm going to claim you! I'm going to fill you up, and I'm going to make you scream my name! Then I'm going to ravish you like that for hours, until you beg me to stop."

Her eyes were huge. She stared at his face and he almost did not look like himself. Almost. She could still see traces of her sweet fiancé, although he seemed tethered by this ferocity and lust.

This was a Jareth she had not seen before, and, God help her, she liked him. Once they had made their way to the bedroom, Jareth kicked the door shut and locked it with magic. The castle rang with screams for several hours.

Well past 13 o'clock, Eimile arrived at the castle. She had no idea where Sarah was. She peered into the throne room and saw Jareth, sprawled out on his throne, a blissful look on his face. He didn't even seem to notice that she was there, so she decided to look elsewhere.

Once she had looked into almost all of the downstairs rooms, she took a quick glance at the Gardens. No luck. Then something made her decide to head to the bedroom. She knocked on the door, and Sarah answered. She was wearing a long silk robe and holding it tightly shut. Her face was flushed, she had several love bites on her neck, her lips were bruised and swollen, and she was having difficulty walking. She too, seemed blissful and dreamy.

Jareth. She knew her brother too well to have any doubts. She also had no doubts that there was much screaming involved, if his past exploits were any indication. This time she had no intention of laying down on those sheets having a conversation with Sarah. Blech.

"You still up for lunch?"

Slowly Sarah turned around, a ludicrous smile on her face, and she seemed to be moving in slow motion.

"I feel like slapping you right now. Like that's what it's gonna take to wake you up." Eimile snapped.

Slowly Sarah's eyes begin to focus. "Um, no. I'm good. At least I will be." She turned to head to the armoire and Eimile looked down at the floor, seeing the demolished dress. She rolled her eyes. Then she flicked her wrist, reminiscent of Jareth, and a cup of hot black tea appeared in her hand. She handed it wordlessly to Sarah.

Once Sarah was dressed and reasonably alert, Eimile steered her toward the Elven Village. Once there, they entered a beautiful little tea room named Tea Breeze. It featured teas from all over the Above, delicious little finger sandwiches, and tiny little tarts and cakes for dessert.

Sarah gazed around at the elegant surroundings. The Elves that were serving were just like the ones she had met earlier with Jareth. Tall, slender, and beautiful.

Eimile sensed that it was not the time to go further with wedding plans. Instead, she gave Sarah a brief tutorial on the history of the kingdom, including the beings that lived there and their status.

Having been fully immersed in the Above during her recent gap year, she knew exactly where Sarah was coming from in terms of equality. She also knew, as Jareth did, that her plans would not be as quick and easy as Sarah believed, although she had such a good heart.

This would be an ongoing discussion during their marriage, she realized.

There was social fairness as Sarah saw it, and there was fairness in reality for the Underground. Two different things. She was going to let Sarah speak with Jareth about that in the future.

When they were almost done, Sarah ordered a single frosted tea cake in the shape of a heart. It was a beautiful little confection of a thing, and Sarah had said that she intended to leave it on Jareth's pillow. Eimile thought two things, one, that Jareth did not deserve this woman, and two, that these two were just sickening together. She had never seen Jareth so smitten. It seemed like he had been waiting for Sarah all his life.


	4. 4 Be My Wife

"Sometimes the past is something you just can't let go of. And sometimes the past is something we will do anything to forget. And sometimes we learn something new about the past that changes everything we know about the present." – Sarah Williams

~1991~

Sarah and Jareth had been sitting in the dining room each on one side of the table. They were talking about the wedding and making plans.

This morning she had been building on the framework that Eimile had laid out several days prior. She didn't realize how very little she knew about the Underground or certainly Jareth's kingdom. She knew very little about who lived here, traditions the different groups had, and the history that they had, living above ground for over 2000 years and now in the Otherworld for an additional 2000. While she still felt there were changes she wanted to make as far as the social system, she realized that something as huge as this world and this kingdom would require far more than just one determined person.

It felt so best plan of action she now felt was to create a beautiful wedding of their own, and then, after the honeymoon, begin some work in one area that she felt she could improve, to start.

Jareth watched her face carefully during the conversation and the time it took for her to think things out. He truly wanted her to have the wedding of her dreams, and he would do whatever he could to make that happen. But realistically, as far as changes to the kingdom, their wedding would not be nearly enough to move the boulders of time and tradition. That would take years.

She took a deep breath, and nodded her head yes. "You know, at one time I thought that running away to elope would be the best way. But with you being king, we owe all your subjects something. I would just like for it to be simple."

"Are you certain?" He asked. "Because we can make this as grand and glorious as you wish."

She shook her head again. "No, that's exactly what I do not want. I have some things that are very important to me, that I wish to include, but a huge wedding was never in my plans."

"I know that I was relieved to hear we did not have to have a large _state_ wedding," he said. "Those are the only kinds of weddings I have seen here, so the fact that we can do something different is very special. As are you." And he placed his hand on top of hers.

She smiled at him. Then they proceeded to go through all of the things that each of them wanted. Jareth was very simple in his requests. Fairly soon, he rose and offered Sarah a cup of tea or a glass of wine. "Tea please," she asked. "Irish Breakfast this time?"

He created her tea, and then stretched. "I have a meeting with my advisors, love, he said. Do you feel that you've had enough of my input?"

"Yes," she nodded. "If you feel that you do."

"I do. I will leave you and Eimile to the tasks of filling in the rest of the details. Shall I see you for dinner?"

As he turned to leave, he was startled to find Eimile standing right behind him, holding a bottle of wine.

"Stop sneaking up on me with your little bitty feet, ankle biter," he said.

"You're very funny. Is that going to stop soon?" She shot right back.

He turned toward Sarah, rolling his eyes.

"_Don't_ you roll your eyes at me behind my back! I mean, _your_ back!" Eimile said, voice raised. It seemed that the whole family was capable of reading emotions and thoughts.

Jareth kissed Sarah, then left the room.

One afternoon, and one bottle of wine later, Sarah and Eimile felt that they had everything pretty much covered. If there were any reservations or ordering, Eimile would take care of it. All Sarah had to do was wait for Litha, keep herself rested, hydrated, calm, and write her vows.

On the first day of Midsummer, or Litha, Sarah awoke in one of the guest rooms. She and Jareth had decided to stay apart for at least 24 hours before the wedding/handfasting – it only added to the anticipation of seeing one another again as future husband and wife.

One of the village women, a Fae, was curling Sarah's hair and helping her with make up. Sarah had a beautiful floral crown of forest greens, miniature strawberries, and flowers, including the pink roses that Jareth had first given her. She was wearing her hair down in waves underneath the circlet of flowers. Most of those same flowers would be in her wedding bouquet.

Because she rarely wore much make up, Sarah didn't see the point in having somebody help her with it. But Eimile had insisted, so… she was enjoying the make up process with her little flute of champagne, and already feeling a bit bubbly. When the Fae woman was done, she turned Sarah to face the mirror. The reflection in the mirror took her breath away. She had no idea that she could look like that! And with her hair, and the crown, well, it was just unbelievable.

One of the customs of the Underground for handfasting was to choose just one person to stand witness for each of the participants. That was a relatively easy decision for Sarah. Although she and Ixonia were close, she and Eimile were definitely better friends. Ixonia, however, was in the room, along with Jareth's mother and Eimile, helping Sarah to get ready.

Karen was not there. She was helping Toby practice his ring bearing responsibilities, which he was taking very seriously.

She wore no stockings that day, choosing instead to go barefoot. Patrick however, had had a beautiful silver ankle bracelet of triskeles created for her and she was wearing that.

The women helped Sarah to pull her dress over her head without mussing her make up or hair. Eimile buttoned up the 20 or so tiny buttons at the back of the dress. Like Eimile had promised, the dress had a bit of a floating train, but not so much that she couldn't move. The front of the dress had a beautiful V neck line. The entire dress was made of delicate Irish lace over a silk lining. It was formfitting, but what Sarah really loved was looking into the mirror and turning slightly around. The view of her back, in that open dress, was spectacular. She had a feeling that Jareth would love it.

They had decided to marry under a floral arbor in Flidais' Woods. Jareth had asked a local woodcarver to design chairs for those attending. They would be lined up in front of the arbor. Brielle, Jareth's mother, had arranged for a carriage to take them to the woods. It was elegant and beautiful, pulled by two gorgeous horses in full livery.

Sarah truly wanted all the subjects of the kingdom to be there if they wished. So she and Jareth compromised, with everyone from the kingdom able to attend the wedding, but a select few attending the reception, which would be held in the Royal Garden.

Most of the kingdom were thrilled. They saw this as one more positive change that the Lady Sarah was bringing to the kingdom. They could not wait to see the ceremony and several hours before, the perimeter of the clearing was already filled with roe deer, bears, goblins, dwarves, dryads, naiads, fauns, fireys, elves, pookahs, faeries, centaurs, even a small dragon and other creatures that were mostly never seen, only read about in stories, and there were so many of them! Finn was walking the perimeter of the clearing.

The Fae of the kingdom were there as well. Excited to be there for the most part, but some of them looking down their noses at the other creatures. Finn just shook his head. As a royal, he had certainly grown up privileged. Yet, after several discussions with Sarah, he had no time for other privileged beings thinking they were superior. He was proud of Jareth and Sarah for making this choice. Finn had been charged with making sure that everything at the wedding and the reception went smoothly. He was also Jareth's standing witness.

The immediate family was to sit in the front row. Jareth's assorted aunts, uncles, and cousins would take up the remaining chairs.

The village harpist was there. She would be doing all of the music for the ceremony. She began playing early; just lovely background music while people took their seats. Jareth's father, Cillian, the former king, was wearing his full formal white regalia, and a navy blue baldric holding more medals than anyone could possibly count. Looking regal and solemn, he would be performing the ceremony.

Finn took his place to the right of the arbor. Suddenly there was a murmur going through the crowd. Jareth was entering on the right wearing full dress black regalia up on a beautiful huge black stallion. He was not wearing a crown, and he had finally given in to his mother to wear his hair back in a sort of ponytail, like Finn. He dismounted easily, and stood next to Finn. Looking at his father, Jareth could not help the huge smile that was on his face. Cillian gave his oldest child and only son a proud smile in return. It had taken literally hundreds of years for Jareth to find the right person, and today they would be joined.

Moments later, the carriage arrived. The footmen helped all of the women out but Sarah, and Eimile, also going barefoot, began walking down the grassy, wildflower dotted field on her own. She went to the left side of the arbor and stood there. Jareth had headed down to accompany his mother to one of the seats in front. Once he did so, she kissed him, gave him a huge hug and he went back to stand next to Finn.

Suddenly the harpist changed music and two violinists walked up to accompany her. They began the opening notes of Schubert's _Avé Maria._ While Sarah's family was not very religious, this was her mother's absolute favorite song, she knew. She had childhood memories of listening to her mother play this in the back garden, just because she loved it.

She didn't know who was responsible for this – most likely Jareth and her father. Her eyes begin to tear up. It was so wonderful to have a memory of her mother at her wedding.

The footman helped her out of the carriage and she began walking down the grassy lane toward the arbor. She was absolutely glowing and everyone present could see that. As her father offered her his arm, many of the guests thought that there had never been a bride so lovely in the kingdom before. Jareth could not take his eyes off her. He was so proud, so in love, as she walked toward him. They looked each other in the eyes and she was the most beautiful that he had ever seen her. She hugged her father, gave Jareth a little smile, handed her bouquet to Eimile, and Jareth's father began.

Sarah remembered very little of the ceremony. She remembered Jareth's father binding their two right hands together with the beautiful cream colored and green cord that Eimile had chosen.

She remembered Toby, with a very serious face, bringing up a pillow with their wedding rings on it. While they were exchanging them, and Jareth put his ring on Sarah's finger, she looked down and tears immediately came to her eyes. This was her mother's wedding ring! She looked at Jareth with her hand on her heart and mouthed the words "I love you." Jareth tipped his head and gave her a small smile. That said everything.

After they had said their vows, they were declared husband and wife. They had managed to combine both a hand fasting and and an Aboveground wedding seamlessly.

One of the Aboveground customs of the wedding was kissing the bride afterward. Jareth thought that this was a capital idea. He took Sarah in his arms and dipped her down for a long, romantic kiss. Cheers went up all around, including the kingdom members on the outskirts of the clearing.

There were some who sniffed that Jareth should not be marrying Sarah as she was "only" human. There were far more, however, that had never seen their king so happy, after such a long time of looking for just the right mate. In addition, there was no question that Sarah was all bringing kinds of wonderful improvements to the kingdom. People were looking forward to seeing what she would do next.

At this point, the crowd surged forward toward them, in order to wish them well and congratulations. Sarah was thrilled to see that some of the beings on the outside of the clearing were also coming in to wish them well.

Amidst hugs, tears, and grasping of hands, a beautiful, tall young woman grasped Sara's hand. "I don't know if I can ever say how grateful I am that you chose to allow us to come. May the Goddess be with you and your husband always." Sarah smiled and thanked her. Jareth leaned in and said quietly to her, "Dryad. She can turn into a tree whenever she wishes. Most of these creatures live in the forest, unseen. What you have done today has given them some recognition and respect." His eyes twinkled proudly at her.

Eventually they made their way to the carriage and the wedding party entered. Everyone else made their way on foot. The reception was going to be in the back garden of the castle, near the Labyrinth wall. Her boxwood was bright green again and all of her creatures were returning.

To Jareth and Sarah, the reception was one happy candlelit blur. Jareth's parents had created tiny little candles in crystal orbs that floated all over the garden. (Sarah wondered if they were aware of the crystal ball connection.) Beautiful round tables were made and adorned with floral arrangements - taken from the woods and the flowers of the four corners of the kingdom. There was champagne, hugs, kisses, laughter, music, there was an elderflower lemon wedding cake, and they had stopped at each table, thanking everyone for coming. Thanking her three friends, sitting together, Sarah noticed that Hoggle was still teary-eyed. Didymus was patting him on the back, trying to jolly him out of it. Ludo had already had several pieces of cake, and was looking longingly at what was left on the table in front. They had trouble remembering much more than that.

Except what would go down in memory years later known as "The Goblin Incident." As a special gift, Sarah had given her wedding bouquet to Spam. Spam had never had anything so lovely in her life. The flowers, the way the handle was wrapped with ribbon; it was Spam's pride and joy. Add to that that it was Lady Sarah's bouquet - it was priceless.

Spam had carefully set it on the castle kitchen counter, thinking it would be safe there. However, Mumble discovered it. He thought that it looked delicious, and began eating the flowers.

When Spam caught him at this, there were earsplitting screeches that could be heard all through the Castle Garden.

All of the guests looked at one another to see if they could determine what the noise was.

Spam had grabbed a cast-iron pan and was chasing Mumble with it, first through the castle, then through the garden doors. He made his way to the wedding celebration and nimbly hopped from table to table, trying to avoid a now rabid Spam.

It rarely happens, but goblins are capable of a rage and loss of control similar to that of a berserker. To be driven to this, the goblin has to be so incredibly furious that the berserker rage kicks in. Their eyes glow red. It is extremely difficult to talk down a goblin in this state. Jareth was just glad it didn't happen very often.

Spam was right behind Mumble. She had her frying pan and was swiping it wherever she went. Glasses were being smashed, people were screaming, several tables were tipped over. Spam was able to hop to the top of walls and hedges with her frying pan, her red eyes scanning the garden, looking for the devil that had dared to eat Lady Sarah's wedding bouquet. There was a string of goblin profanity that she had woven that still hangs somewhere over the kingdom to this day.

Lady Sarah was the one who saved the day. Jareth had been the first to jump up, ready to take on Spam and keep her from ruining the reception further. She frightened even him, with her glowing and twirling red eyes and foaming mouth, showing all of her pointed teeth. Not even knowing what she was doing, she swiped at Jareth with her frying pan and almost bashed in his skull.

Sarah flew to him and pushed him behind her. She had the feeling that she was the only one that Spam might listen to at this moment. "Spam," she began, Spam turned her crazily glowing eyes on Sarah. "Spam, I can get you another wedding bouquet. It's OK. We can even pick out the flowers together, so that it is just for you. Wouldn't you rather do that than destroy my dinner?"

Spam looked around wildly, incapable of speech. She was breathing so hard she was wheezing and finally her eyes settled again on Sarah.

"See? Spam? It's me. Lady Sarah. We can replace that bouquet. It's OK. It's 0K. Can I get you something – a glass of milk maybe?"

Her breathing began to slow down and slowly the red was leaving her eyes. She would not take her eyes off Sarah. Slowly she shook her head yes. "OK then," said Sarah. "Let's go into the kitchen together and I will get you some milk."

As they walked to the castle together, one of Spam's little hands was clutching Sarah's dress.

Once Spam had settled down and was able to drink her milk, she wanted to hide in Sarah's armoire. This was not her normal home, but Sarah felt that she must need some kind of comfort there. She headed back out to the garden.

Everyone in the garden, upon seeing Sarah, stood up and applauded. Sarah smiled shyly. This was embarrassing. She was a goblin whisperer!

Jareth walked up to her and put his arm around her waist, kissing her cheek. "That, my love, is for saving my life!" More applause and laughing from the crowd.

Sarah was exhausted. She whispered into Jareth's ear. "Friends! Family! I'd like you to know that my beautiful bride and I will be leaving for our wedding night. The honeymoon will be later, but we are about to head somewhere special just for this evening. There is still much champagne, and food that didn't get tossed to the ground," More laughter, "For you all to enjoy. Please do not feel you need to leave on our account. Thank you so much for coming and for being a part of our special day!"

As they got to the top of the garden Jareth held her hand. "So? Where are we going?" she asked, smiling. "Someplace wonderful," he guaranteed. "Perfect for a first night." "Do I need anything?" She asked, "certain clothing, swimsuits…?" "No," replied Jareth, "Anything you need I will be able to get for you."

Here he had a surprise for her. He stretched out his wings. She was stunned. They were white, beautiful and majestic. She had no idea that he had them. Wondering to herself how he was able to get them out without ruining his clothing, she realized that he had his magic and that of course, this would be no problem.

He smiled at her stunned amazement. "These allow me to travel as well. Almost just quickly as transporting, actually. And we will be invisible the entire time. Are you ready, my love?"

She nodded, so excited to see what the next surprise would be. Snuggling into him, he wrapped one wing around her, and with a single sound like wings taking off, they disappeared. One white feather floated down to the ground.

Wherever they arrived, it was outside, warm and it was nighttime. Sarah could see fire torches in the distance, and hear some quiet laughter as well. She still had no idea where they were until she took a deep breath. There was the beautiful, piney scent of redwoods. They were at "their" vineyard in the redwood grove!

When she looked up at Jareth, she saw that he had his Aboveground look. Shorter hair, button down shirt with the tails out and the sleeves rolled up. This time, he had longer khaki shorts that reached his knee. He was wearing sandals, as was she. Her flower crown was gone, but her dress was the same. Jareth offered his arm. "Well darling," he asked. "Shall we check in?"

They took the path that led them through the herb and flower gardens. In back of the main building, there was a patio with dozens of tables. Most of them were filled with people quietly enjoying their wine and the warm summer evening. They smiled at the attractive couple walking past them.

Jareth knew exactly where he was going. He led her to the front desk of the main building, where the suites were. The room was gorgeous, lined with olive wood on every wall, and wooden sculptures placed strategically around all of the furniture. A young woman was behind the desk.

"Hello love," he said. The young woman blushed. "We have a reservation under the name O'Rourke?"

She looked through her book quickly and found the name. "O'Rourke," she said. "Honeymoon suite. Was today your?..."

Both Jareth and Sarah smiled yes. The girl's eyes lit up. "Well, Congratulations! We will have a complimentary bottle on ice waiting for you in your suite," the girl said. She gave them their key, pointed out directions, and invited them down for a cheese and wine tasting in the garden. Something told her, however, that they wouldn't be coming down for a long while.

**Triskele = an ancient Irish symbol, seen today in jewelry and stone art. The basic shape is three swirls coming out from one center. (Triss-KEEL)**

**Handfasting = when a couple has chosen to honor their Irish heritage with a handfasting ceremony. Handfasting is an ancient Irish wedding tradition that has come to be interpreted literally, as the symbolic act of "tying the knot." Or "Blessing of the Hands". Also done now by couples of non-Irish heritage. **

**Flidhais' Woods = FLAH-days **

**(Irish goddess ****of woods.****)**

**Baldric = BALL-drick. An often ornamented belt worn over one shoulder to support a sword.**

**Schubert's Avé Maria - there are many different versions of the Avé Maria. I feel that Schubert's is, by far, the best.**

**The Winery/ Vineyard/ Inn and Restaurant at Lynmar Estates is a real place in Sebastopol, California, Sonoma County. By far the best winery I have ever been to, and I used to live in California. (So I'm fairly familiar with good wineries,) I highly recommend it if you're ever in the area. **


	5. 5 Brilliant Adventure

"The ties that bind us are sometimes impossible to explain. They connect us even after it seems like the ties should be broken. Some bonds defy distance and time and logic; Because some ties are simply... meant to be." – Sarah O'Rourke

~1991~

She awoke at the Inn at the winery. Sarah stretched, luxuriously. Last night, she thought she would be too tired to celebrate their first evening together as husband and wife. But Jareth coaxed something out of her that proved she was wrong. He was the most incredible and intuitive lover. And that was the word. Everyone says "make love" to someone, but Jareth truly did. Not only did he drive her absolutely wild, but he made her feel loved and cherished the entire time. She was ready to pounce on him again.

As if he could feel her thoughts or her eyes upon him, he slowly woke. "Well, hello," he said, "Good morning, my wife," he said, savoring the words.

"Good morning, my husband." She couldn't help but have a ridiculous grin on her face when she said that. Her _husband_! Slowly she rose and straddled him. "I hope you still have some energy left this morning," she purred into his ear.

"For you? Always," he said in a low growl. He reached up and grasped her by her hips as she bent down to give him a deep kiss.

Upon waking a second time, they both slipped into the shower together. Sarah loved doing this. Using just soap and her hands, she would bathe him, enjoying every stroke of his firm, muscled body. She loved his reactions as well. He would stand there, eyes closed, until he couldn't take it anymore, and he would reach for her.

Backing her up against the shower wall, he would bathe her the same way, except that he would be kissing her neck and breasts the entire time. It drove her wild.

This of course would lead to hot, steamy shower lovemaking. Generally Sarah would end up with her legs wrapped around him and he held her up, close to his body. She wondered at the strength he had to do that.

Afterwards, they would shower again and step out to towel off. Sarah had bent down and was drying her legs when she felt his eyes upon her. She looked up, smiling. He was watching her with that irresistible toothy grin of his. If they had had time, she would have dragged him into the bedroom again.

"Much as I would love to," he drawled, lazily, "I'm afraid we haven't the time."

"You're in my head again," she stated. "Without permission, may I add. You'll have to teach me how to use my skills better so that I can do that to you."

" I don't know," he said with a smile in his voice. "I'm not sure I want you playing around in there. You might find some very naughty thoughts about yourself…."

"I am sure I would find some very naughty thoughts in general," she grinned. "Now," she changed the subject, "What to wear?…"

"Today looks like sundress weather," he said. She nodded. "What color would you like?" She thought a moment, then said, "light blue." He flicked his wrist at her and she was wearing a beautiful light blue floral sundress with a halter neckline. She knew he liked that neckline on her, as it showed off her neck and collarbone to good advantage.

By the time she looked up he had gotten dressed as well. Today, he was wearing a white, longsleeved shirt with the sleeves somewhat rolled up and most of the buttons undone, showing a good deal of his chest. He knew that drove her crazy. He also had on those long khaki shorts and sandals.

She looked down. She was wearing some cute gladiator sandals, but something was missing."Ahem," and he looked up at her. "I seem to be missing something," she said. "This skirt is too short to not have…"

He widened his beautiful eyes and looked at her innocently. "I find that panties are overrated up here," he said, silkily. "I much prefer the easy access."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Fine," he sighed. "You're taking all the fun out of this, you know." He snapped his fingers.

"Oh, nice," she said. "A _thong_? You know those are only good for one thing, right?" He grinned at her toothily and they headed down for brunch and mimosas, Sarah pulling on her underwear when no one was looking.

After a wonderful outside brunch, Sarah was feeling a little fuzzy because of the three mimosas she had had. Jareth had had far more, but it must've been his Fae strength that kept him from seemingly feeling anything. They stretched out in the sun on olivewood lounge chairs for a while, with a view of the mountains and the vineyards in front of them. Then they walked the fragrant paths through the herb garden and made their way to the redwood grove.

Sitting on a bench, they both looked up at the impossibly tall trees, inhaling their heavenly scent. "This has been perfect," Sarah smiled. "I can't imagine a better way for us to start our lives together." She put her head on his shoulder.

"Oh, I don't know," he replied. "You haven't seen our honeymoon yet. It's something I've been working on for a long while." She looked up at him, questioningly. Jareth could do anything he wanted within seconds, she thought to herself. What could it be that he had to work on?

"I suppose you're going to make me wait to find that out," she said.

He just smiled, looking straight ahead. "Good things come to those who…"

She bit his shoulder.

They arrived in the foyer of the castle this time. Sarah looked around. There were flowers everywhere! And a big sign that stretched across the doors to the garden that said "Welcome Back!"

Wedding gifts were piled artfully in one corner. There was a card on the marble table in the center of the room. Sarah read it out loud:

Welcome back, newlyweds! We have purposely cleared out the castle so that you can have some quiet time to yourselves. It will be goblin free until tomorrow afternoon. The kitchen staff, however, will be making meals for you both. We shall see you in a day or so,

With much love,

Finn and Ixonia

Sarah smiled up at Jareth. "Isn't that wonderful? I can't wait to continue our new married life without – "

He reached down and gently put a finger to her lips, silencing her. She looked up at him, and he said, "Love, perhaps you would like a small nap for an hour or so? I would be so happy to join you then." He boldly looked her up and down, his face revealing no doubts as to his intentions.

She could feel her face burning under his gaze. Damnit! She had to get that under control.

"And what will _you_ be doing for this hour, love?" She asked, one eyebrow arched.

"Just some Kingly duties that I need to take care of," he replied, vaguely. He slapped her on the bottom, and said, "Off with you! I have work to do."

He had turned away before she could give him a look of offended outrage at being swatted. She sighed and headed up the stairs.

When Jareth entered his office, he carefully looked around to make sure that no one else was in the vicinity. He stepped inside, and looked at all of the additional tables, mathematical equipment, clear glass standing writing boards and sheaves of paper that cluttered his once immaculate office. There were impossibly complicated mathematical formulas on the writing board, and on most of the papers.

Some of his celestial navigation tools were there as well, and Jareth went to these first. The project that he was working on had been in the works for several years. It wasn't until recently that he had needed to expand his materials out in order to continue the more complicated work.

He had kept all of this secret, even from Finn and Sarah. He meant to surprise Sarah with this, one of his greatest achievements. He didn't know if he would ever tell Finn or anyone else, however.

One hour turned into two, he was so engrossed in his work. When he looked up at the clock, he let loose with an expletive. He left his office, making sure to magick the lock so that no one could get in without his permission.

He ran upstairs, toward their bedroom. He hoped she would not be angry with him for being so late. He opened the door, shut it quietly and then leaned against it, watching her sleep. Thank the gods. He did not want to disappoint her on their wedding vacation.

Sarah kept her eyes closed and smiled as she felt Jareth carefully getting into bed behind her. This was going to be fun. She reached back behind herself and touched a muscled thigh. Jareth let forth a low, quiet laugh.

Once they woke, Jareth hopped out of bed, put on a silk robe, and reached behind the door for Sarah's. Handing it to her, she noticed that he had a bright, expectant look on his face.

"Are you ready to begin the most incredible adventure of your life?" He asked.

His smile was irresistible. She took the robe, put it on and tiptoed up to kiss his neck. "With you?" she asked. "Always."

He led her downstairs to his office. Again, he looked around before opening the door and stepping in. Sarah stepped in behind him.

She couldn't believe the transformation of his office. It looked like some sort of physics laboratory, from all of the things that she saw scattered about. She looked up to the glass writing board, and while her understanding of mathematics was quite good, there was no making heads or tails of what she saw there.

"What are you are looking at is several years of very intensive work," he said. "It is, however, most important that you tell no one about it. You'll understand why in a minute." He pulled out a chair for Sarah and she sat down. He magicked a new clear writing board and began writing on it as he was explaining things.

"First of all," he began, "You already know that there are things such as parallel worlds. To get an idea as to how they work, I want you to imagine you are living in a lake. You are a fish with eyes on either side of your head and all you know is the underwater world of sediment and vegetation and other fish swimming around you. The sunlight comes in, dimmer and refracted, through the water. You go about your life convinced that this underwater world is all there is because it's all that you can experience. However, there exists an entirely new environment outside of your line of sight — one where animals don't need water to breathe and flowers bloom in a far more arid world."

"This is the situation some physicists believe we're in. We are those fish and those higher dimensions are the new environments many can't perceive. In fact, string theory, which attempts to reconcile relativity with quantum mechanics (the laws of the very big with the very small), only works if we assume there are much more than the four dimensions we're used to. Some physicists believe but cannot yet prove that there exists up to 11 dimensions in the multiverse. Yes, the multiverse, where universes are bubbles that sometimes come together or split apart."

Most of this made sense to Sarah. It explained the different worlds, his and hers, and it seemed that he believed that there were others. Incredibly fascinating. He went on.

"According to one interpretation of quantum physics, every time a quantum object, such as an electron, is faced with a choice, the world divides to allow it to take every possible offer. In the simplest example, the electron may be faced with a wall containing two holes, so that it must go through one hole or the other. The Universe splits so that in one version of reality - one set of relative dimensions - it goes through the hole on the left, while in the other it goes through the hole on the right. Pushed to its limits, this interpretation says that the Universe is split into infinitely many copies of itself, variations on a basic theme, in which all possible outcomes of all possible "experiments" must happen somewhere in the "multiverse"."

Sarah was intently focusing in order to get all of this.

"Einstein's General Theory of Relativity extends the Special Theory to cover gravity. It does this by assuming that matter "curves" the space in its vicinity. But under relativity, properties of space are fairly interchangeable with properties of time, depending on one's perspective, so that a curved path through space can wind up being a curved path through time. In moderate degrees, this allows two straight lines of different lengths to connect the same points in space; in extreme degrees, theoretically, it could allow time lines to curve around in a circle and reconnect with their own past."

He smiled at her. "And, put simply, all of this means?"

She had been looking at him incredulously. "That _time_ _travel_ is possible?"

"And not just _forward_ time travel, which technically is possible and some physicists believe is not that difficult; but _backwards_ time travel, which physicists in your world mostly believe is impossible."

He let her have some time to consider this for a while.

"So, your magic allows you to travel between worlds, but not between times," she said slowly.

"Until now."

She was torn between incredulity and feverish anticipation. Seeing the look on her face, he continued, "I have already traveled forward in time. Do you remember when I sang the song "_I'll Stand by You"_ around a year ago?"

She nodded. "And then you said that I would start to hear it more in a few years."

"It hadn't been written yet when I sang it to you," he said. "Still hasn't."

"How many times have you done this?" She was stunned.

"About twelve." He answered. I think I have it down now, but that was only going _forward_ in time. The most difficult thing, the thing I've been working on for several years, is _backwards_ time travel."

"At first," he continued, "I only went in very short increments - minutes, then later an hour or two. Eventually I was able to master several years, but always going forward only."

"Now, finally," he said proudly, "I have broken the backwards movement paradox. In other words, I am able to successfully break the rules of physics. As we know them now."

Sarah could only stare at him, speechless.

His excitement was contagious. "What I've given you is only a tiny fraction of the work that I have been doing. But it comes down to this; if you could go back in time, anytime that you wanted, when would you go?"

_**References**__:_

**Albert Einstein:**_** Relativity: The Special and the General Theory **_

**Albert Einstein: **_**The Meaning of Relativity**_

**J. Richard Gott: **_**Time Travel in Einstein's Universe: The Physical Possibilities of Travel Through Time**_

**Katrin Becker: String Theory and M-theory **


	6. 6 I'll Be Seeing You

"I've had a lot of time to look back on my life. And the things that I remember best - those are the things I wasn't supposed to do and I did them anyway. The thing is, life is too damn short to be following these rules." - Jareth

~1991~

Sarah was still stunned by the fact that this was even possible. "How far back can we go?" She asked.

"Well so far, I've been able to travel back about a century or so. I've never stayed too long, though, for fear of not being able to return. That's the last variable that I have yet to figure out. I can tell you, however, that we can go for at least an hour."

"There are rules, however," he added, "These we must not break. I do not know what might happen if these rules are broken. That's the main reason I want no one else but us to know this. There could be disastrous consequences if this were to fall into the wrong hands."

"Rules like?" she asked.

"You cannot do anything, say anything, that would change the future. As you can imagine, this could be one of the disastrous consequences that I mentioned."

"What else?" She asked.

"Once you reach your destination, we will be popping into existence, as it were. Basically like transporting. This has to be done in an area where we cannot be seen. Planning this one out would require either knowing exactly where we were going, or if not, then doing some research. For safety's sake, for example, you most likely would not want to go to, say, Hitler's Germany around the time of WWll. The same rules would, of course, apply to our exit back here," he said. "Or of course," he added, "If you wished to go back in time to a specific event, you would need to know the date and time of the event."

"And?" Sarah asked. This was becoming more and more real to her all the time, and she was becoming more and more excited as well.

"Wherever we go," and here he looked at her very seriously, "You must not be in a position where you would run into your former self. I don't know enough about that paradox to tell you what the outcome would be, so it's best to avoid it altogether."

"Lastly," he added, "I've referred to this before, but you must not tell anyone what we are doing. As I said earlier, this kind of discovery could lead to disastrous consequences in the wrong hands. The only way I have of guaranteeing that it won't, is to keep this information strictly between ourselves."

He pulled up another chair, sat next to her, and took her hands in his. "So, do you have any ideas yet, or would you like some time to think about it?" Sarah was silent for a few minutes. She was going through these things in her head carefully, ticking them off like a checklist. She knew exactly where and when she wanted to go, but needed to be sure that it were possible.

She looked up at Jareth, who was watching her intently. "I'd like to go back to see my mother, while she was still alive," Sarah said.

He smiled at her with his eyes, gently squeezing her hands. "I had a feeling that's what you would choose," he said. "And it is certainly possible."

"Do you have a date?" He asked.

Quickly she did the math in her head. "1976," she said. "And a Thursday night, at the Conservatory, where she played concerts every week, starting at seven. Any month except the three summer months, when the Conservatory is closed for concerts. That way we should be fairly certain to run into her."

"So we would get there at six, to give you at least an hour with her," he thought out loud. "I need to know where it is."

"Well," she said, working backward, "It's in my old town in Connecticut, and it's the Foster Conservatory on Old Foster Road. That much I remember. I can't remember the address number, though."

"Not a problem," he replied. "That's easy enough to get. What I would suggest right now, is that we go to bed early, and tomorrow, I shall look up women's fashions for 1976, for you to wear. We can leave at any time, because I am able to find the time curve that we need at any time, so we may return at any time as well."

She just stared at him. She couldn't believe this was actually happening. And she couldn't believe, as impossibly brilliant and magical that he was, that he was able to figure out something that no one, no one had ever been able to before.

"You amaze me," she said. "Every time I think I know you, you show me something even more incredible. I adore you."

He shook his head. "Not half as much as I adore you. Let's get some sleep, and tomorrow, you will see your mother."

Sarah could barely sleep. She wanted to, she wanted rest so that she was sharp in the morning, but so many things kept running through her head. Jareth could feel her tossing and turning, He gently pulled her toward him so that they spooned together for the rest of the evening when she was finally able to fall asleep.

That next morning, they had breakfast, and Jareth put Sarah into a nondescript outfit that would fit in at the Conservatory as well as in 1976.

After going into his office and thoroughly locking the door, Jareth stood in the center of the room. He held his arms out to Sarah, who approached him and wrapped her arms tightly around him. He kissed the top of her head, and asked her, "Are you ready?" With her face pushed into his chest, she nodded yes. The atmosphere shifted as they disappeared into an undulating wave.

~1976~

They rippled into existence in one of the rooms used for private lessons. Sarah was able to remember these quite well, as she had taken her own lessons there.

The Foster Conservatory was a huge old Manor House, all stained glass and beautiful carved wood, that had been converted into a performance space, with rooms for lessons.

Her mother's performance would be starting in roughly one hour. If memory served correctly, her mother would be in the main room of the conservatory, warming up and perfecting her arrangements. Jareth had decided that he would stay behind and let Sarah go off on her own to meet her mother.

She slipped out the door, down the hall and into the main conservatory room. Sure enough, there was her mother. Sarah's heart ached. It had been so long since she had seen her mother alive, that this was something of a shock. She was wearing slim black boots, a long narrow black skirt, and a black turtleneck sweater. Her beautiful dark hair was straight and long and the only jewelry she was wearing were two small silver hoops in her ears.

She was beautiful. And so young! Sarah had forgotten about that. Her mother must've only been about 31 when she died in that car accident. That would be several years from now. Right now, she, Sarah, as a little girl would be asleep in her bedroom. This was so strange.

She was playing the Stradivarius. Sarah wondered how that could be since she knew that she had the Strad back home in the Underground. At any rate, she didn't have much time.

She stepped up to her mother and politely cleared her throat. Maureen Fitzgerald Williams looked up and saw a mirror image of herself, but about ten years younger. That in itself was startling, but this other woman seemed so familiar to her! She couldn't put a finger on it, but she swore she knew her from somewhere.

"Hello," said Sarah. "My name is Meghan Jones," (a name she had chosen before she had arrived.) "I was listening to you practice and you sound absolutely wonderful. I understand that you have a concert tonight."

Maureen turned her large grey eyes on Sarah and smiled. "Yes, I do. Are you a student here?"

"No,"said Sarah, "Although I used to be. I grew up near here," she added.

"Really? My husband and I moved here somewhat recently, after the birth of our daughter, Sarah. You know, you look so familiar to me – I can't quite figure it out, but have we met before?"

Sarah's heart was threatening to jump out of her chest and her throat was tightening up. "I don't believe so," she uttered huskily.

That is so odd… Maureen puzzled. "I could have sworn I know you from somewhere. At any rate, can I help you with anything?"

All of these memories that she had forgotten she even had were washing back over her. Her mother's voice, its cadence and melody, her long slender artists' fingers. Her large grey eyes, so much like Sarah's but grey, not green. Sarah wanted to stay here forever and talk with her. She didn't know how to answer her mother's question. Sarah had forgotten how to speak.

"Do you still play?" Maureen was asking her. "Actually, I should ask what you might play, I just assumed it was the violin."

"Yes it is, and I do. I have a violin much like yours, actually." Then she bit the inside of her mouth. There were only about one hundred violins in the world like her mother's. Statistically it would be almost impossible for that to be true. "I mean," said Sarah, "It's a Strad. Just not a Cremonenti."

Maureen smiled gently. "If you're playing a Strad you must be a wonderful violinist. I would like to get together sometime, I would love to do some duets. It's hard for me to find anyone else that I can do that with. I don't know very many people in the neighborhood yet, so it would be wonderful to get to know you."

Sarah's heart ached as she remembered doing duets with her mother as a child. Her mother must've been so patient with her. A concert violinist, playing with a six-year-old on a child's violin. And she never made Sarah feel that she wasn't anything other than a wonderful musician.

"Oh," said Sarah. "You have no idea how much I would love to. I don't live around here anymore though, I only come back for short visits."

"Well perhaps," her mother said, "You can give me a call when you're around and we'll try to get together. I would love that. Would you?"

If only I could, thought Sarah. She could feel the tears in back of her eyes. Maureen had written out her phone number on a the back of a piece of sheet music and handed it to Sarah.

She looked at her own childhood phone number, written in her mother's handwriting, with her mother's name under it. This was going to be priceless to her.

The room started to fill with the audience. Maureen stood up, she was so slim and taller than Sarah because of the boots. She gave her a hug. She said, "I hope you don't mind that. I just feel as if we were friends in another lifetime or something. I truly hope I see you again, Meghan." She flashed her beautiful smile and then sat back down, getting to work tuning her violin.

Sarah smiled at her and slowly left the room. Once she was at the wide doorway, she turned around for another look at her mother. She could not believe this - this was so absolutely unbelievable and she had Jareth to thank for it.

She felt Jareth's hands on her shoulders, and he whispered into her ear, "She's so lovely. Just like her daughter."

Fighting tears, she reached for one of his hands and nodded her head yes. "Yes, yes she was. I never thought I would see her again. And because of you, I have."

"He leaned his cheek against her head. I hate to say this, but - we have to go."

"I know. Just, just thank you."

Right on cue, as if she knew something, Maureen looked up into Sarah's eyes and smiled. Then Sarah left.

**Antonio Stradivari is one of the most famous makers of stringed instruments (otherwise known as luthiers) of all time. His instruments are highly regarded and often sell for at least six figure sums at auction thanks to their unique sound and esteemed history.**

**Stradivari was an Italian luthier and a crafter of string instruments such as violins, cellos, guitars, violas and harps. The Latinized form of his surname, Stradivarius, as well as the colloquial Strad are terms often used to refer to his instruments. His unique interpretation of geometry and design for the violin has served as a conceptual model for violin makers for more than 250 years. It is estimated that Stradivari produced 1,116 instruments, 960 of which were violins. Around 650 instruments survived, including 450 to 512 violins.**

**Stradivarius string instruments, made by Antonio Stradivari in the 1600s and 1700s in Cremona, Italy, are widely considered to be of the best quality. One sold at auction in 2011 for nearly $16 million, a record for a musical instrument. Only some 650 true Stradivarius violins exist, musical instrument experts say, and each is more or less accounted for. They don't simply turn up.**

**Most of the Stradivariuses are known and documented. It would be highly unlikely that something comes up that is not known****. ****Most things have provenance and certification, comparing it to tracing back the ownership of a Rembrandt.**

**So how did Maureen Fitzgerald Williams, an excellent violinist but certainly not a millionaire, obtain one?**


	7. 7 Stand By Me

"The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares." – Sarah O'Rourke

~1991~

When they returned to Jareth's office he kept his arms around her and looked carefully at her face. "Love? Are you OK? I'm sure that was a wonderful thing for you but I am also thinking that it had to have brought up some very painful memories…"

Sarah looked into his eyes and said, "Thank you Jareth. Thank you for something that no one else could have given me. You have no idea how much that meant to me." Then she gently pulled out of his arms and started to walk out the door. She looked over her shoulder, and said, "I just need to be alone for a while. I'm going out to the garden."

As he watched her go, he wondered if this had been a good idea.

Half an hour later, he looked out the French doors and saw her sitting on a bench. Not crying, just looking straight ahead. She had taken a blanket out with her and spread it over her lap. Spam somehow found her, and was sitting on the ground near the blanket, leaning on Sarah's legs. It seemed to Jareth that she was trying to lend comfort to Sarah in the only way she knew how.

He waited for another 10 minutes, and when she didn't come in, he headed out to the garden to sit with her. Spam looked up, seemed ready to say something, and Jareth put his finger to his lips in the "shh" sign. Sarah looked up at him and wordlessly he sat down next to her. She spread the blanket over both of their laps and they both sat there, silently. She handed him the piece of sheet music that her mother had used to write her phone number. When he turned it over he could see the title of the piece:

_Nocturne No.20 in C# Minor by Chopin._

For as much time as he had been alive, Jareth had learned many things. One of them was music. This had to be one of the saddest pieces ever written.

The Nocturne was published posthumously in 1870, 40 years after Chopin had died. It had to be a coincidence, but he felt so much sorrow for Sarah. He put his arm over the back of the bench behind her, and just held space for her for as long as she needed.

After an hour or so, when the late afternoon sun was starting to lie low, he noticed that both Sarah and Spam had fallen asleep. Well, Spam had anyway. Sarah had begun to rest her head on his shoulder like she wanted to.

"Would you like to go inside now?" He asked softly. She nodded. Carefully, he picked her up and her head rested on his shoulder. As he began to head toward the castle. Spam awoke. "You can come with us if you like, Spam," said Jareth. She scrambled to catch up with them.

Jareth took her to a small sitting room with a fireplace. This was one of his mother's favorite rooms when they lived here. It was warm and comforting. Looking at the fire he nodded briefly and the logs burst into flames.

There was a thick, soft carpet in front of the fireplace. Behind that was a sofa. He laid Sarah down on the sofa and sat near her so she could rest her head in his lap. She murmured in appreciation and reached up to hug his legs. Carefully Jareth was able to spread Sarah's blanket over her. Spam curled up with the bit of blanket that was hanging over the side of the sofa.

"Are you all right?" He whispered. "I think that today had a greater effect on you than either of us could have imagined."

Sarah sighed and reached for one of Jareth's hands to hold. "No, Jareth, I hope you're not feeling badly about this. You gave me an incredible gift today. To see my mother again, that was something that most people can only dream of. I was able not only to see her but to talk with her, and hug her."

"What happened was, when we returned, I felt as if I had lost her all over again. I have no words for that. But what you did just now, that was perfect. I just needed you there. Not to talk, or anything else. You were just," here she paused, "there for me."

He bent down and kissed her head. "I'm always going to be here for you," he said. "And apparently," he said with a chuckle, "so will Spam."

Sarah laughed softly. "Yes, she found me in the garden fairly quickly. It's as if she knew I was hurting. She never said a word, just sat at my feet and leaned against my legs. She was remarkably comforting."

Jareth smiled at the little creature curled up near Sarah's feet. Who would have thought that a goblin could be so sensitive and caring? It made him wonder if he might have been misjudging them all this time.

Several days later, when Jareth woke in the morning, Spam was on the end of the bed with her legs crossed, playing "cat's cradle" with yarn as Sarah had taught her to do. Ixonia was there, next to Sarah. Eimile walked in and asked Jareth to shove over. Apparently there was something big to discuss, or maybe nothing at all. He found he didn't mind this as much as he used to and they were laughing and so happy in each others' company. At least they didn't show up at inopportune times. Still. Probably best to just get up now. His work was calling to him in the library.

He was so incredibly thrilled about this. And each day, he seemed to learn something more. For the longest time, he felt as though he didn't have a purpose. He had a purpose in watching over Sarah and his kingdom, certainly. But a purpose that might eventually help others, that would be fascinating and life-changing – that's what this was. He had by now figured out how to go back in time and stay safely for at least one week. He was also wise enough to know that couples who did things that interested them apart from one another got along better than couples who did not. Those without separate interests became bored with another, found the other person uninteresting and unchallenging. He was going to do whatever he needed to do to keep his marriage fresh and strong.

He could not wait to see Sarah's face when he told her of the next time travel that they would be taking.

When she had not yet come down and knocked on his door, he decided to go upstairs himself to see what she was doing. Spam was still there, as was Ixonia, Sarah and Eimile. Sitting on the opposite end of the bed, next to Spam was Finn. Sarah had her feet in his lap and was blissfully closing her eyes while he kneaded her toes.

Jareth was glad that this bed was so very large. He walked up to Eimile and slapped her on the leg. She looked at him with mock outrage, and he said, "shove over." She raised her eyebrows, gave a slight smile, and obliged.

Jareth leaned back against the headboard, hands behind his neck and asked casually, "If you could go anywhere that you wanted to, at any time at all, where would you go?" Sarah's eyes flew open, staring at him. The rest of them all saw this as a hypothetical question.

Eimile said, "That's easy. I'd go back to when I was seven, and father had bought us all that little hobby farm, for the cousins and us. We had chickens, and baby goats, piglets, and I will always remember that pony. He was a beautiful chestnut. I don't think I've ever been that happy in my life, and because of him horses have since become a huge part of my life."

Ixonia said, "I'd go into the future. When I had completed all of my surgeon training, and helped to open a Health Center for the kingdom. Even you Immortals need help after a traumatic injury, and the gods know that everyone else in the kingdom certainly would."

Jareth nodded approvingly. That was exactly the kind of answer that someone like Ixonia would give – thoughtful and selfless.

Finn jumped in. "I'd go back to our University years Above. Remember, Jareth? And I would date more women, get drunk more, do more pub crawls, and – " Here he saw Jareth and Ixonia looking at him with some disapproval. "And, and maybe work for an animal sanctuary or something," he finished lamely. Ixonia made a disgusted sound and looked up at the ceiling, refusing to meet Finn's eyes.

Spam said that she'd like to go back to last evening's dinner, as the strawberry dessert was so wonderful. Jareth laughed.

"What about you, love?" he asked, playing with Sarah's hair.

"1920s Paris," she said. "In between the two world wars. Paris was the absolute place for everyone to go. It was the center of the art, entertainment and literary world. Most of my favorite composers, writers, artists, musicians and dancers were _all_ in Paris at that time. And they would all get together at different pubs along the Montparnesse, and drink, and sing, and talk politics, and then there was the fashion, the cinemas, and all of the shows and cafés…"

Jareth smiled. He knew many of Sarah's favorite authors and artists. He himself had actually been in Paris in the 1920s, and found it magical. He could not imagine a better honeymoon for his beautiful bride.

He smiled broadly, and said to Sarah, "That sounds absolutely perfect." Then he put his feet in Finn's lap. When Finn glared up at him, Jareth just said, "Your king requires a foot rub."

Finn looked at him with a mixture of incredulity and disgust. "King. More like bloody dictator," Finn grumbled under his breath.


	8. 8 Me Against You

"Don't you wish you could just take it back? That thing you said? That thing you did? There's no undo button. There's only hoping we can learn. We can change, right? We can do better. We can't take back what we've done. We can't undo the past, cause the future keeps coming at us." – Sarah O'Rourke

~1991~

Jareth was both aghast and furious when he saw Eimile trying to duck out of his office. When she turned toward him a look of complete horror at being caught crossed her face.

"What the bloody fuck have you been doing in there?" Jareth asked, between clenched teeth.

"I could ask you the same question,"she snapped. Suddenly feeling self-righteous, her fear at being caught turned to fury.

Jareth grabbed her arm, probably a little too forcefully, and dragged her back into the office, locking the door.

She was considerably shorter than he was, but the blaze in her eyes as she faced him was somewhat intimidating.

"You made a vow." She said slowly. "You were granted powers far beyond those of any normal Fae in order to run this kingdom. And one of the vows that you made, in front of father and the Royal council, was never to misuse your magic. To always watch for the well-being of your kingdom. So what do you call _this_?"

"_This_," he replied, "Is none of your business. And what the blessed fuck were you doing in here anyway?"

"I was looking for you to ask you a question. When I noticed that you had magicked the door shut, I decided that I had better get in here."

"And you just thought you would snoop around my work to see what I was doing?"

"It wasn't that difficult," she lashed back. "It was the equations you have right there," she pointed at the board. You are working on bending physics to your will. You are working on backwards time travel! Do you have _any_ idea how serious and dangerous this is?"

"Níos lú ná mar a cheapann tú!" He yelled at her. So angry that he reverted to his first language.

"Cé a cheapann tú go bhfuil tú?" She screamed back.

"Is mise an rí! Féidr liom cibé rud is mian liom a dhéanamh!"

Finn happened to be walking past the door. When he heard all of the screaming in Irish, he was naturally curious and put his ear to the door.

Suddenly something breakable hit the inside of the door and Finn jumped back. At this point, hearing the screaming and the glass breaking, Sarah joined Finn at the door.

"What's going on?" She asked quietly. Finn put his finger to his lips. "I'm trying to figure that out. So far I have heard Jareth yell, "Not as much as you'd think!" Eimile ask, "What do you think you are," and he responded, "I am the king, I can do whatever I want!"

Next they heard Eimile scream "Ní féidir leat aon rud is mian leat a dhéanamh!"

"You cannot do whatever you want," translated Finn.

Eimile screamed "Ní dia tú!"

"She just told him that he is not a god."

"Dún do bhéal diabhal!"

"And he just told her to shut her damn mouth," said Finn with worried frown.

"Tá tú ag soithigh!"

"Annnd he just called her a nosy bitch."

"Urchòideach gobdaw!"

"She just said he's a malignant twit."

Sarah's eyes were wide and horrified.

There was another crash in the office. This time she could hear Jareth roaring another insult, she guessed.

Finn put his hand on her back. "Nothing good is going to come of this," he said. "I think we best go elsewhere."

Sarah nodded and they left the castle to wait in the garden.

Roughly twenty minutes later Jareth found them sitting at a table. He had a large tumbler of scotch. For the most part he didn't drink much – mostly good wine and not much of that. His face looked like a thunderstorm.

Sarah and Finn looked at one another, then at Jareth. He looked like he was trying to pull himself together.

"Love," Sarah whispered. "Are you okay? Where's Eimile?"

"She went home. I'll be okay later. I'm sorry you had to hear that. I need some time alone," he said shortly. He headed off to the Labyrinth.

Sarah was reading in bed once Jareth finally saw her again. She had decided to stay silent until he wanted to speak. She looked at him as he sat on the bed with his back to her.

"She knows." He sounded exhausted.

"Eimile?" Sarah kicked herself mentally. Who else could it be?

He didn't respond. Sarah tried to lighten the atmosphere. "I haven't heard that much Irish swearing since my granddad was alive. Of course, his wasn't exactly the same as yours, as he was often screaming for Manchester United…" Another mental kick. What was _wrong_ with her?

He covered his eyes. "I wouldn't mind if I already had everything down, ready to go or explain. But if she tells father or the council, I may have to stop this research."

"For now, everything is going to proceed as planned. Once we've decided on a week, I will go back and make a reservation at the Hotel d'Angleterre or the Ritz. That is where Hemingway and Fitzgerald tended to stay. Tomorrow I am going to do research on clothing and the various meeting places - cafés, pubs, etc. Your job is to come up with as many people as you hope to meet within the space of a specific week. For example, you wouldn't be able to meet van Gogh and James Joyce in the same year, let alone the same week. Do you see what I mean?"

This was another thing that she loved about him. Even though he could be wrathful, he was always able to get himself out of it and get back on track. She was relieved that he was going to keep going forward with their plan.

She knelt behind him and hugged him. Kissing his neck, she whispered in his ear. "Yes, of course your king would love a distraction!" He laughed lowly. He reached back for her and pulled her into his lap.

The next morning after breakfast, they both headed off to different places for their research. Jareth to his office, Sarah to the library. Luckily, it was an extensive, huge library. Jareth possessed books not only from the Underground but, it seemed, all of the classics and much of the history from Aboveground. It also seemed that there was no language he could not speak. This was going to make her work much easier. They were now on something of a deadline as Jareth didn't know if or when he would be stopped in this project.

Now her research was going to involve when each of these people was in Paris, from 1920-1930, between the two world wars.

She had started a list of who was in Paris and during which years.

E. Hemingway 1921-1923/1924-1929

James Joyce 1920-1939

Fitzgerald 1924-1930

Zelda Fitzgerald 1924-1930

Gertrude Stein 1903-1946

Cole Porter 1917-1927

Josephine Baker 1925-1936

George Gershwin 1926-1928

Isadora Duncan 1925-1927

Igor Stravinsky 1920-1924

Pablo Picasso 1904-1973

Coco Chanel 1883-1971

Henri Matisse 1869-1954

Claude Monet (Too late)

Pierre-August Renoir (Too late)

These were the main ones, for her. It was hard to believe that so many incredibly talented people could live at the same time, let alone get together with one another in one place in the world. She wondered if any of these people were outliers, and if so, if Jareth had met them before. She made a mental note to ask him.

She was just starting her more in depth research on Joyce when Eimile stepped into the library. Sarah looked at her carefully, to ascertain her mood.

"I am fine." Eimile said. "In spite of what it sounded like, we did not kill each other yesterday. I'm actually somewhat surprised that I did not end up in the oubliette again. When we were younger, we were known for some pretty earsplitting disagreements. Our poor mother." She pulled a chair up to Sarah's table, rested her chin on her hand, and looked at the list.

"Oh." She said.

Sarah placed her hands protectively over the list.

"I was wondering if you were a part of this or not," Eimile said sadly.

"My brother didn't tell me that part. He was more furious about the fact that I had dared to look around his sacred office. He was also livid that I had the nerve to tell him that he was not a god, and that even though he is a king, he is still accountable to some. Then there was some name-calling and so forth." She sighed. "Ever realize hours after an argument, the great insults that you could have hurled but didn't think to at the time? There ought to be a word for it." She gave the O'Rourke toothy grin.

Sarah nodded, smiling. "I have shared the pain of that experience all the time. There's nothing in English for it, nor in Irish, but the French have a phrase for it. "_L'esprit de l'escalier_": the witty retort you should have made – but didn't come up with until it was too late. It literally means "The spirit of the stairs," meaning that your response doesn't come to you until long after you've left or are already standing or the bottom of the stairs, on your way out. Chances are nobody's going to run back up the stairs and hurl that retort, but God knows I've wanted to."

She was relieved that Eimile's anger was gone, at least for now. She was further relieved that Eimile was not angry at her, specifically. What she did not know was when or if Eimile was going to take this information to their father. Perhaps she already had.

As if she could read her mind, Eimile said, "No, I haven't told anyone. Yet."

She slid down until her cheek was on top of the table. "And I don't know if or when I will. The fact is, I don't know what to do with this information, and I wish I had never discovered it." She mumbled into the table.

Sarah was silent, not knowing how to respond to this.

The mumbled voice from the table said, "I see you are looking at artists, musicians and authors from Paris in the 20s, am I right? Even from my short time Above - during my gap year - I knew about that era. For what it's worth, it would be one of my favorite choices too."

Sarah squirmed a little, inwardly. "Yes. This was to be our honeymoon. Jareth gave me the choice of where and when to go. He's already taken me back to see my mother again, and that was priceless."

Eimile's head snapped up. "You mean he's already tried it? And he's taken you _with_ him?"

Sarah took a deep breath and looked Eimile in the eyes, steadily. "Yes." Much as she loved Eimile, and had come to be her best friend, she would always be on Jareth's side first.

Eimile stared at her, levelly. "I'm sure there is nothing that I can say that will discourage you from this." She was silent for a while.

Eimile sighed. Then nodded. She was admitting to agree to disagree with Sarah in this argument. After a moment she said …"Soooo, may I suggest we do a little day drinking?" She magicked a bottle of Dom Perignon '86 and two crystal flutes.

Sarah smiled when she saw the year on the champagne. She shook her head. "No, I told Jareth I would get this done. I don't know how long it will take, but I need to be clearheaded."

"Fine," sighed Eimile, sounding disappointed. "Mind if I keep you company for a while while I do?" She stretched her feet out so that they were resting on the table. Sarah could see that she was wearing riding boots under her floral skirt. She appreciated Eimile's distinctive sense of fashion. Once Eimile had poured herself a glass, she leaned back with her hands behind her neck, exactly like Jareth. Come to think of it, the whole thing – boots—feet on the table – leaning back with her arms behind her head — was exactly like a female Jareth. Sarah chuckled.

"What? Are you one of those "no-feet-on-the-table" type of people?

"No," said Sarah "I'm laughing because you and Jareth have so many similar mannerisms."

Eimile scowled at her. "Please don't compare me to that idiot ever again."

Jareth had come and was standing behind Eimile, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed.

"Sarah, Darling," Jareth said, not even looking at Eimile. "Is this alcoholic reprobate bothering you? Because I could have it removed."

"Sarah, _Darling_," here Eimile over emphasized the word, "Would you remind my jackass brother that this castle belongs to the entire royal family? Not only him. Ergo, _I_ may go wherever I please."

"And also," as if she had just remembered, "That he is a miserable wanker?"

"Feckin' gobshite." He casually responded, looking at his fingernails.

Just as casually, Eimile tossed her champagne backwards, right into Jareth's face. She grinned.

"You're a right bit – " he stopped, dead in his tracks by the look on Sarah's face. He knew that the "b" word was a word he would never be allowed to say in her presence. He decided to take the Irish route. Surely Sarah wouldn't know…

"OK, tá brón orm ach caithfidh tú imeacht anois."

Sarah caught the look of fury on Eimile's face just before she popped out of existence.

She glared up at Jareth. "You didn't!"

He smirked.

"The oubliette!? What the hell were you thinking? She had just told me that not only had she not told your father, but she wasn't sure if she would. Now you've had to go and piss her off and that's probably the _first_ thing she'll do."

Sarah huffed out of the library. "Feckin' eejit!" She hissed.

His own wife? Cursing him in Irish slang?

"I'll have you know I heard that!" He called after her.

"I said it loud!" came her reply.

Late that evening, Sarah and Jareth were getting ready for bed. They had begun speaking, barely, but Sarah still wanted to send a message.

So instead of wearing lingerie or something pretty to bed, instead of going to bed nude after her shower, she dug around in the back of her armoire and came up with flannel pajamas, a T-shirt, and thick white socks. She had ordered these because these were her standard winter bed clothes when she was a kid. Now they were going to be used as bedroom armor.

Jareth came out of the shower, towel drying his hair. He said, "You know, love, I have thought of a wonderful way for us to make up after this argument we've had today – " and then his face fell as he looked at Sarah. She stood there, one hand on her hip, eyebrow raised. Daring him to make a move on her.

"Oh," he said sadly. "I can see that make up sex is off the table…" Sarah's eyebrow went up even higher.

She whirled around and flounced into bed. Taking out the book she was reading; making it perfectly clear that he was not to touch her.

With a hangdog expression, he quietly got into bed beside her. If he had looked closely, he would've seen that Sarah's book was upside down.

Suddenly, the double doors to the bedroom suite violently flew open. That must have required magic, because those doors were so tall and heavy, it was not easy to open even one at a time.

Standing in the doorway was a terrifying apparition. Its long tangled hair was flying out, as if there were a wind blowing it. It was muddy and filthy and it wore a torn dress. The look of rage on its face was indescribable and so twisted that there was no way this thing was human. Slowly its arm reached out and its shaking finger pointed at Jareth.

Sarah squeaked in terror. She couldn't even muster a scream. It was The Banshee – a hideous monster that wailed at night whenever someone in an Irish family was about to die. It was a harbinger of death. Her granddad used to tell her terrifying stories about this thing that would always give her nightmares. This was her nightmare incarnate. She grabbed Jareth around the waist.

"You. You. You – " and here the thing spluttered off into unintelligible Irish or gibberish, Sarah couldn't tell. She was hiding behind Jareth with her eyes closed.

"How did you get out so soon? I was looking forward to some carefree time without seeing _you_ around every corner," he sighed. "That was the whole _point_."

Sarah peeked out over Jareth's shoulder at The Banshee. What was he talking about? This thing had _come_ for one of them!

"By the looks of it, I'd say you dug yourself out with your fingernails. At least those pointed claws of yours are good for something," He went on, "Oh, and your hair looks like shite, by the way."

With a furious screech that could probably be heard Aboveground the nightmare hurled itself at Jareth. It literally flew over Sarah and landed on him, all sorts of bizarre utterances coming from its mouth. Sarah was able to get a closer look at the thing.

It was Eimile. Of course. She really did look like something from hell. Sarah saw her raise her arm above her head, ready to tear Jareth's eyes out. Jareth was laughing.

"Eimile! You nearly scared me to death!" cried Sarah. "This conflict is _not_ going to turn into physical violence!"

Eimile slowly lowered her hand and looked at the terrified Sarah. The only thing saving Jareth's face from a good clawing was the look of terror on Sarah's.

Eimile composed her face. At least she tried to. She still looked like some bug eyed creature with no lips. She shook her head as she climbed off of Jareth, who was still laughing.

Sarah slapped him on the arm, forgetting about her own rule of physical violence. "And you! Knock it off! You're not helping things any!"

He tried to look properly ashamed, but could only hold it for a few seconds before he began giggling.

"Damnit, you two!" Sarah had had enough. She grabbed her book and her favorite pillow and stormed out of the room toward one of the guest rooms. She was done.

**Fecking gobshite = more slang than actual Irish, feck being a softer Irish word for fuck and **

**Gobshite ****a popular term of abuse for a foolish or daft person**

**Shite = shit**

**Eejit = idiot**

**Tá brón orm ach caithfidh tú imeacht anois = roughly translated, "it's time for you to go now." This is what Jareth says to Eimile shortly before he sends her to the oubliette.**

**The Banshee**** = like Sarah, I first heard about her when I was young, and she still creeps me out. BAN-shee; "woman of the fairy mound" or "fairy woman" - a female spirit in Irish mythology who heralds the death of a family member, usually by wailing, shrieking, or keening. **


	9. 9 Give Peace A Chance

"In life only one thing is certain no matter how hard you try, no matter how good your intentions, you are going to make mistakes, you're going to hurt people, you're going to get hurt and if you ever want to recover there's really only one thing you can say… I forgive you." – Sarah O'Rourke

~1991~

When Sarah woke, she wondered why she was feeling so upset. Then she remembered the events of the day before. How long was this going to go on? And was it going to affect their honeymoon? She had no appetite for breakfast, so she asked the kitchen for a cup of coffee and sat out in the garden.

Eimile came down one of the garden paths and sat down next to her, chin in hand. She really did look like she had dug herself out of the oubliette, Sarah thought. Her face and hands still bore scratches, and her nails were a mess. Sarah was definitely not going to ask her how she got out.

Sarah let out a big sigh and closed her eyes. When she opened them Eimile hadn't moved, but was looking contrite – ish. Or sort of.

"I'm sorry if I scared you so terribly last night," she apologized. "But I was so furious at that _thing_ you are married to that I completely lost my head."

She arched an eyebrow. "That _thing_, is my husband. What I would like to know is, are you going to ruin our honeymoon or not?" Sarah asked, coolly.

"Truthfully," said Eimile, "I'm not sure yet. I'm sorry I cannot give you more assurance than that. Believe me, if this were just about Jareth, I definitely would have. But you are one of my dearest friends, I love you, and I don't want to do something that would hurt you," she said, frankly. "Although", she added, "If he pulls a stunt like that one again, I'm not so sure."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Well, that's reassuring."

"So," Eimile began, a laugh in her voice, "You thought I was The Banshee, didn't you? Who told you those stories? It must've been when you were a child, and I am guessing that they terrified you as much as they did me."

Sarah allowed herself a small smile. "Yes, I did think that you were her. My granddad told me stories about her, and then my mother would get very angry with him. I must admit she's still one of my greatest nightmares, even though I've grown up."

Eimile nodded. "My mother used to tell me that she didn't really exist. But from the stories I've heard, and all of the creatures that live here, I find that hard to believe. I feel like I can never know for sure…"

"And Jareth didn't help any."she added. "When I was a little girl he used to stand under my window at the castle and make terrifying wailing noises." She shook her head. "So you see, the dysfunction goes waaaay back…"

Sarah sighed and closed her eyes again. If this were someone else's family, all of these antics might be funny. But it was _her_ family, and it wasn't funny. Too many people were getting hurt in the crossfire. She knew that Finn and Ixonia had been present for some of the battles she hadn't even seen, and even Hoggle had said something about her three friends being afraid of the coldness between those two. Spam would squeal and run away if she saw either of them coming. She herself kept going back-and-forth between being angry at Jareth and Eimile and not being angry.

She stood up, coffee in hand. "I'm going to go get a second cup, and head to the library," she said. "I'm going to be researching for a honeymoon that may or may not happen." She looked pointedly at Eimile, who had become suddenly fascinated by her fingernails.

Eimile stood up to join her. "If you don't mind, I'd like to come along. I'm short on reading materials right now, and I'd like to see what I can find in the family library." She pointed at Sarah's cup, and it was refilled. Sarah allowed a small smile at Eimile, and they went in to the library.

For about an hour, Sarah had been sitting at the library table doing her research. Eimile had a small stack of books on the end of the table. Currently she was up on the ladder, on the far side of the room, toward the ceiling, when Jareth walked in to speak to Sarah.

"I hate to say this, love," he began, "But it looks like we may need to postpone things for a day or so. I've come across a glitch I need to work on before we leave. How are your studies coming along? Do you have a better idea of when you would like to go yet?"

Thus far he had not noticed Eimile up on the ladder. When Sarah glanced up at her, he followed her gaze and saw his sister. A sinister smile spread across his face. With her up there so far…

It was as if Sarah could read his mind. Quickly she brought her list over to Jareth, trying to distract him. "Darling," she said, pointing at the list with her pen, "So far this is what I have. I had hoped to catch some of the Impressionists, but I had forgotten that their heyday was basically over in the late 1800s." When she looked up at Jareth, he was still staring at Eimile with that evil smile spread across his face. He hadn't heard a thing she'd said.

Gently, she grasped his chin and turned his face to hers. "Did you catch any of that?" she asked.

"Yes," he said vaguely. "The Impressionists were having a May Day in the 1800s."

He looked back at his sister, before Sarah grabbed his chin again and turned him to face her. She shook her head, and mouthed the word NO to him.

He turned back toward Eimile and yelled out, "Oy! Ginger!" He knew she hated that name. "You can hang about all you want, but remember that this is MY wife, and even if you two are friends, she will always be on MY side!"

So it's come to this, thought Sarah. "I'll see you at lunch darling," she coolly said. Jareth took the hint and headed out the door, but not before Eimile had magically hurled a book at the back of his head. Rubbing his head and with a look of pain and incredulity on his face, he turned toward Eimile.

"Oh, did I drop that book? Oh Jareth," she said in mock sympathy."Did I flatten your lovely hair?"

It took Sarah everything she had to drag him out of the library and into the dining room.

After lunch, Sarah had skulked about the castle, looking for Eimile. She could not handle one more altercation. She didn't find her, but she did find Finn, sticking his head out the library door. When he saw her, he whispered her name. "Sarah! Over here!" He was waving her into the library.

Once she stepped in, she took a look around and saw quite a group organized there. Some were sitting on sofas, some on the floor, some on chairs, and several on a table. It was Finn and Ixonia, several of the kitchen Fae, other Fae castle staff, Spam, and even her three friends – Ludo, Didymus and Hoggle. When they saw her, they all began talking at once. It seemed they had all been victims of the wrath between Jareth and Eimile.

Finn rose, quieting the group to speak to Sarah himself. "Sarah. You've got to do something about these two. It's awful. It's tense and it's cold and it's dangerous, it feels like defusing a bomb, in a haunted house, that's built on a minefield, and there are bears everywhere, and the bears have knives. You have to tame them, or you will die, we will all die. Their hate will destroy this kingdom and then the whole Underworld. I am counting on you Sarah. We're all counting on you," he finished, dramatically.

At this point, Finn stepped back and sat down, allowing Sarah to think. She had no idea it was _this_ bad. And she could not believe that everybody expected her to do something about it. Although, being Jareth's wife, it only made sense.

Sarah was horrified. She didn't know that everyone else was suffering so much as well. Her eyes traveled around the library looking at everyone there. They were all nodding their heads in agreement with Finn.

She took a deep breath, and then let it out slowly. She looked around the room, trying to make eye contact with everyone there. "I am so sorry. I had no idea things had gotten this bad for you, and I am so sorry for the stress and fear this has put you through. I'm going to try to speak to them both tonight. I can't promise that I can magically fix everything, but I hope to make them think, to empathize, and to realize, for what it's worth, that this ridiculous feud of theirs is hurting people and it needs to stop, right now."

Everyone looked at her appreciatively. She was going to do her best, but she hoped she wouldn't disappoint them. She thanked everyone for coming and giving her this information, and left the library.

She had sent out several goblins to find both Jareth and Eimile. The message to both of them was that Sarah needed to speak with them immediately and to join her in what was now called Sarah's room. This little sitting room, that had been Jareth's mother's, had become one of Sarah's favorite places in the castle as well.

She sent a goblin to the kitchen to bring back tea, making sure that it was all Earl Grey. It couldn't hurt to get on Jareth's good side.

She built a fire in the fireplace herself. Sitting down, she leaned back and ran through what she was about to say in her head.

Jareth came in first. He bent down, held Sarah's hand and kissed her. Then he pulled back to look at her face. "Is everything all right, love? Is something wrong?" he asked. She served him his tea.

She squeezed his hand and smiled slightly. "What's wrong is what has been going on here for the past several weeks," she said. She left it at that.

Jareth sat down quietly beside her, expecting a heart to heart with his wife about the ongoing feud between him and his sister. Instead, she just sat there.

Suddenly the door flew open with Eimile behind it. "I'm sorry I'm late, Sarah, I was out riding at my parents' when I got the message. What's wrong?" Suddenly she saw Jareth and stopped short.

Eimile and Jareth both gave Sarah a look of betrayal that was almost identical. Sarah would have laughed if the situation weren't so serious.

She addressed Eimile first, after handing her a cup of tea. "This ridiculous battle between you two should not be happening. I know you're feeling self-righteous about Jareth trying something that he hasn't asked permission for yet. The truth of the matter, is that for safety's sake, he wanted no one else to know about this besides me. And he wanted no one else to get involved with the project until he felt he had it down and it was safe. This was a project on a huge scale that he's been working on for several years and he's proving that science and magic can coexist. Not even coexist," she added, "But perhaps has roots from the same tree. This project is nothing short of miraculous. People dream of this. Books are written about this. To kill this dream, this project, at this point - well that would be a sin."

"I also needed to add, selfishly, that if you destroyed my dreams for my honeymoon I will _never_ forgive you." She had never spoken in this voice before - it was commanding, strong, and fierce. Jareth looked at her with approval. This was how a Queen would speak.

She turned to Jareth next. "Eimile knew that you were doing something incredibly dangerous. More than likely, she yelled at you because of the seriousness of the situation. However, you will note that not only has she _not_ gone to anybody about this, that in spite of everything you have done to her, she _still_ hasn't."

"Jareth, Eimile is your sister. You are blessed. You are family. You are blood. No one knows better than I do what it is like to have a close family member suddenly torn from your life. Forever. And I don't need to remind you, that even though you are immortal, a severe enough trauma can still kill you. One moment of bad judgment, one twist of fate that leads to being in the wrong place at the wrong time, weather conditions that can create a perfect storm of disaster. Disaster that takes that loved one away, without ever getting the chance to say goodbye. Is this worth it, Jareth?"

"And Eimile, do you really want to destroy your brother's dreams, and mine? You know how responsible he is. How wise. Who knows? Maybe that's why you haven't told anybody about him yet. Do you really think he would do something that would put the kingdom _or_ _me_ in danger?"

"I had a very large amount of people and creatures come to me today. They are terrified. They never know when either of you is going to do something awful or blow up. They are walking on eggshells and that is completely unfair. I cannot believe that this is how you would like to be thought of as members of a royal family."

"I am walking out that door right now. Frankly, I want nothing to do with either of you until this is resolved." When she left the room, she closed the door. Eimile and Jareth looked at one another.


	10. 10 I'll Take You There

"If you're willing to throw caution to the wind and take a chance, the view from the other side is spectacular." – Jareth

~1991~

Sarah had gone about the rest of her day deliberately avoiding both Jareth and Eimile. More than anything, she hoped they would hash it out and come up with a positive solution. However, there was only so much she could do. She felt the talk she had had with both of them was well spoken and hopefully would be effective. Unto they'd shown her that things were to be worked out, however, she was going to keep to her promise of not speaking to either of them.

That evening, before bed, Jareth found Sarah in their room. She was trying to decide what she should wear to bed, as well as which bed she was going to end up sleeping in.

He approached her and wordlessly handed her a parchment envelope. She looked up at him questioningly, and he said,"It's all right. I'd like you to read this." The envelope was not sealed. Sarah reached in and took out a piece of parchment stationery with Jareth's royal insignia embossed at the top. What was written just underneath it was short and to the point.

To all concerned,

If you are reading this, Sarah and I will not be returning. If you are reading this, it means that our honeymoon plans have gone unexpectedly wrong. I hereby appoint my cousin Finbar O'Rourke as king. I appoint my sister Eimile O'Rourke as Royal Chancellor, effective immediately.

Sarah and I have embarked on a honeymoon vacation to an undisclosed location that I have been researching for a very long time. I had hoped this would be a dream come true. If you are reading this, something has gone terribly wrong.

It must be said that only two people were aware of my experimental transporting – Sarah and myself.

We love you all and regret any pain this has caused you.

HRH Jareth O'Rourke

There was room at the bottom for one signature. Jareth had already signed it. She assumed that the signature below would be hers. She looked up at Jareth.

"Eimile and I spent several hours discussing our disagreement. I feel that we have come to an understanding. She will not be telling anyone about our time travel, and in exchange, I have written this letter, which both you and I will sign, and leave in my office. This completely exonerates Eimile from any knowledge of my rule breaking, as it were."

"We have further agreed upon a truce. You should know that you were largely responsible for this. Neither of us wants to see you hurt, and we both love you. So for that reason, you and everyone else in the castle can rest easy, knowing that this feud is over."

Sarah's eyes were filled with tears. "Thank you," she responded. "I honestly had no idea how things would resolve themselves, and this is perfect. I'll need to thank your sister as soon as I can. In the meantime, do you have a pen?"

He smiled in relief, and looked at her lovingly. "You know that we're not actually going to need this letter, right? That we will be having an incredible honeymoon, and will come back safe and sound?"

Those tears were back in her eyes. She wondered if she'd ever be able to control them."Yes," she nodded, and signed the letter, directly under Jareth's name.

"So…" Jareth began, awkwardly. He was looking at his feet. Then he looked up, "Is there any chance your sleeping arrangements will change?"

He was so adorable when he was awkward, which wasn't often. She reached up and kissed him gently. Then she pushed him backwards onto the bed and pounced on him.

Sarah and Jareth awoke the next morning in a tangle of limbs and sheets. She pushed herself up on one elbow, resting her chin in the palm of her hand. Her eyes sparkled at Jareth. "So…I have a week in mind for our honeymoon. When can we leave?"

He smiled at her, then rolled over and pushed her down onto the bed, pinning her hands onto the pillow. He looked down at her. "After this," as he bent down to kiss her.

A few hours later, Sarah was packing a small suitcase with just the bare necessities. Make up, Sarah's camera and extra film, a brush, toothbrushes and toothpaste for both of them, and some modern pens and her journal. Jareth had magicked a well-kept antique suitcase from the 1920s just for this. Everything else that they would need, he should be able to create for them once they were there. Except for their arrival clothing. That had to be done now, and Sarah couldn't wait.

She had chosen to be a flapper over dressing more conservatively. She loved the styles, but also felt that, with the company they hoped to keep, she would fit in better. The 1920s flapper girl was not only carefree and independent, but she was also the ultimate combination of all the trends which defined women's fashion in the 1920s. The flapper had short or bobbed hair, a dress that came to the knees, her stockings were rolled below powdered knees. They wore makeup, a definite first for women, and would often apply this in public. Jareth looked at her and with a snap of his fingers, she was transformed. The first thing that she noticed was her short hair. Her neck felt cooler, and when she turned her head there was no long curtain of hair to fly with it.

She looked down and was thrilled. She was wearing a shorter, peach colored, beaded and sequined chemise dress with spaghetti straps and bare arms. She wore long satin gloves, and a doubled long pearl necklace. Her stockings came to just below the knees and had been rolled. Her shoes were peach Mary Janes. The irony of this color was not lost on her.

When she looked in the mirror, she barely recognized herself. In addition to the short hair, she was wearing relatively heavy make up, and her lipstick was drawn over the edges of her lips in order to make them look larger. She was even wearing rouge on her knees! She also had nail polish on, which she almost never wore.

She turned to Jareth, thrilled with her new costume. "This is unbelievable! We are going to have so much fun!"

"You are wearing Chanel," he smiled at her. "Not only were her clothes among the most fashionable and revolutionary, Coco lived during that era, and hopefully we shall meet her. She will recognize your outfit immediately. I think we should dress you in Chanel for the entire trip, if you don't mind."

She was giddy with this. Everything was starting to come together. Everything was starting to seem real. She couldn't wait to see what Jareth would look like.

"It's all so beautiful, love. I cannot tell you how excited I am. So what will you be wearing?" She grinned.

He had turned so that his back was to her. She saw him snap his fingers and he slowly circled round. Doubtless this was his dramatic way of showing off his fashion sense. That was one of the things that she just loved about him.

His hair was quite short on the sides, but fairly long on top, sweeping off to the left. He was wearing a men's suit of looser, pleated, blue tweed in wool and a matching buttoned vest. His shirt was striped, with a white club shirt collar that was buttoned up high, and his paisley tie matched his pocket square. He had on a darker blue solid wool suit coat over this that came down longer than men were wearing now. And a beautiful gold pocket watch dangled from his vest pocket to one of the buttons on his vest. On his feet were black lace up oxfords. He held in one hand what her grandfather had called a peaky or flat cap. He looked like a very wealthy, elegant gangster! Then he put on the cap, pulled it down slightly and winked at her. She thought she was going to faint.

"Oh. My. God." She said slowly, just taking him in. When he gave her his famous toothy grin, she said, "I'm never gonna let you take that off. I'm going to ask you to dress like this every day!"

He raised his eyebrows up-and-down. "Well," he said, tapping his chin with one finger, if I had the right motivation…"

She just gave him a wide smile and shook her head back and forth. "So," she asked, "Who are we going to be?"

"Who do you want to be?" He asked. "We can use our regular names, or we can pretend to be someone else. Just not anybody famous. Keep in mind that we will most likely be drinking quite a bit and you don't want to worry about forgetting our names."

True. The 20s was a time of heavy partying, and the crowd they would hopefully be consorting with were all heavy drinkers. "I think we should be Sarah and Jareth O'Rourke, then."

"Well, Mrs. O'Rourke," he held out one arm to her, "Let's go! Paris is waiting for us!" She flew into his arms and they disappeared.

The transport this time felt very different to Sarah. It took far longer, almost a minute, and was icy cold. She tightened her grip on Jareth and felt him squeeze her shoulder gently.

She knew they had arrived when her feet touched something solid and the air around them was warm. Still embracing each other, Sarah leaned back to look at her husband again. "Oh my God. This is already amazing. Even if we don't meet anyone, the city itself will be enough. _You_ will be enough."

Jareth laughed, with a smile. "Welcome to Paris, April 16, 1926.

~1926~

Sarah twirled around their hotel room, taking it all in. She had never stayed anywhere like this before. The brass bed was the biggest she had ever seen, larger, even, then hers and Jareth's. The bathtub could've held ten people. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. The floor was carpeted with gorgeous oriental carpeting and the walls were covered in silk.

Running to the nearest window, which was quite tall and arched at the top, Sarah looked out. She had never seen a large city like this with cobblestones, pedestrians, gaslighting and both horses and beautiful, long automobiles.

She had chosen Paris in April because she had heard that springtime there was the most beautiful. That the trees were all blooming, and what rain there was would be soft and infrequent. They had arrived at sunset – the golden hour. She ran to the small suitcase and took out a list. She really wanted to share it with him now.

He was watching her, in all of her joyful excitement. This was making all of his hard work more than worth it. He admired the short, satiny swinging bob of her hair and how it revealed her long, slender neck. She ran up to him with the list. "Darling, after my research I was able to determine when I'd like to be here and who I hope we can meet. There are going to be far more, I know, that we may run into, but these people are the really important ones, to me."

He was listening to her, amused. One nail polished finger kept tapping away at the list she had brought, and she was talking a mile a minute. "I was so excited when you said we'd be staying at the Ritz. The restaurant and the bar here have an amazing clientele. Almost half of the people on my list are regulars here. Do you want to hear names?"

He laughed gently, running his hand down one of her arms. "Love," he said, "You need to take a breath. Slow down and let's enjoy this."

She nodded her head and took in a large breath. The thrill of the entire situation was getting the better of her, though, and slowing down was just impossible.

"Look, just look at all the people who are in this city with us right now:

Coco Chanel, Pablo Picasso, Ernest Hemingway, both Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald, James Joyce, Gertrude Stein, Cole Porter, Isadora Duncan, Josephine Baker, and George Gershwin! Like I said, there's probably many others, but these are some of the people I would most _love_ to meet. Hemingway, the Fitzgeralds, and Cole Porter could be downstairs at the bar, right now! Do you _believe_ this!?" She squealed.

Jareth smiled indulgently and tucked her hair behind one of her ears. Removing his hat, he gave her a quick kiss, and offered his arm to her. "Shall we go down to the bar then?" he asked.

They descended the beautiful curved staircase of the hotel, turning right into the bar. As it was barely the cocktail hour, there would be plenty of room for them to sit. Sitting at the bar were several men and women. Two of the men were sitting together, engaging in enthusiastic conversation. The one facing them was a dark-haired, square jawed, good looking young man. When he saw Jareth, his eyes went wide and he stood immediately.

"O'Rourke! You debonair bastard!" The man yelled out at them, loudly. Paying no attention to annoyed looks from others in the bar, he barreled over to Jareth and gave him a huge bear hug.

Sarah's eyes were huge. Jareth was smiling broadly. Once he had smoothed down his clothing, he put a hand on Sarah's back and said to the man, "Ernest Hemingway, may I present my wife, Sarah."


	11. 11 Begin the Beguine

"The expected is what keeps us steady. It's the unexpected that changes our lives forever." - Jareth

~1926~

Hemingway was one of the first on Sarah's list. And wouldn't you know it - the first one they had met. Sarah, who had mostly seen pictures of him when he was older and grey, had a bit of a tough time figuring out who he was at first. She was shocked to learn that he knew Jareth. Now there was a story he was going to need to tell her. She was surprised that Jareth hadn't told her first.

Hemingway – or Ernest – she wasn't sure what to call him, grabbed her right hand and kissed her on it. She was a little surprised, because in reading up on 1920s social customs, women were beginning to become more "modern" - and that often meant a handshake. He may as well have been shaking her hand though, because he was holding it so firmly she thought he might break some bones.

The next young man was blonde, with dark, straight eyebrows. He had turned around by now as well, and his eyes went straight to Sarah. This one she knew immediately. He looked morose at first, but then he broke into a smile when he saw her that lit up the room.

He glanced over at Jareth, and then went right back to staring at Sarah. "O' Rourke, you dog, you have definitely married up!" He smiled up at her as he kissed her hand as well. This flirt was F. Scott Fitzgerald. She knew that by this time, he had already published The Great Gatsby. Sarah smiled at him with her eyes. She was fairly sure she wouldn't have the courage to speak to either of them right now.

Jareth had wrested his hand from Hemingway's big paw and stepped over to Sarah. Hand on her back again, he said, "Scott, this is my wife Sarah. I went and got married since the last time I saw you. And yes, I definitely married up!" Both men chuckled, and Hemingway slapped Jareth on the back so hard he almost went flying.

Okay, she thought to herself. Ernest and Scott. She wanted to get everyone's names right, not necessarily call them by their literary names.

In spite of the fact that Ernest and Jareth seemed to be old friends, though, that slap on the back had Jareth's eyes blazing for a second. Sarah was afraid he'd create a crystal and put it right through Hemingway's face. He gathered himself quickly though, when Hemingway offered them all a drink.

"What can I get you two kids? I'm having my whiskey and soda, and Scott is having his usual Gin Rickey. Then an idea came to him and his eyes lit up. "Unless you'd all care for a round of Absinthe?"

Sarah looked confused. "Wasn't that prohibited here in '15?" Jareth winked at her, proud of his intelligent and studious wife.

"Nothing is prohibited at the Ritz," said Fitzgerald.

"Yet another reason you Yanks find Paris so appealing these days," noted Jareth.

Hemingway waved over Georges, the Ritz' most famous bartender. He spoke to him quietly in French and Georges got to work.

The traditional French preparation involves placing a sugar cube on top of a specially designed slotted spoon, and placing the spoon on a glass filled with a measure of absinthe. Iced water is poured or dripped over the sugar cube to mix the water as dilutes the spirit, those components with poor water solubility (mainly those from anise, fennel, and star anise) come out of solution and cloud the drink. The resulting milky opalescence is called the louche. This reflects what is perhaps the oldest and purest method of preparation, and is often referred to as the French Method.

The resulting drink was served in a beautifully cut glass and was a bright green color. Hemingway removed his spoon, set it in his glass and held it out for a toast. "To our old friends who made it through the war!"

Fitzgerald stuck with his Gin Rickey. He did not care for absinthe. He looked over at Sarah, sitting next to him, and said, "Sweetness, if you find that is too much for that pretty little head of yours, may I recommend a French 75 - Nice little treat with champagne and a twist of lemon."

"Anything named after an extremely lethal piece of artillery could hardly be called a little treat," drawled Jareth. He grinned, put his arm around Sarah's waist – again – and pulled her toward him.

She was beginning to understand the whole arm around her waist thing. He was making sure that everyone understood that she was _his_ wife. He was being unnecessarily possessive. One of the things she remembered reading was the tendency for some people in that era to sleep with everyone else. He was so sweet when he was protective like that, although she didn't need it. She could always handle herself. She turned her head to him and kissed him full on the lips, earning her cheers from the entire bar for her audacity.

"Precious, just so you know," he whispered, "Absinthe is also an hallucinogenic. If you try one, bear in mind that one might be all you would like to have."

She actually did know what absinthe was, although she was not familiar with the preparation method that Georges used today. Absinthe seemed to be such a large part of vintage history, that she had to have one. And she told Jareth so, whispering back to him.

"To la fée verte!" Jareth held up his glass.

"First you take a drink, then the drink takes a drink, then the drink takes you," quipped Scott. Sarah giggled.

One little sip of that absinthe, and she was already feeling squirrelly. Holding up her glass, she cried out, "Bless your little Irish heart, and every other Irish part!"

"_Mrs_. _O'Rourke! _I can see we are in good company!" yelled out Ernest approvingly from down the bar.

Jareth put a hand on Sarah's bare knee. "Well, I know that you certainly bless my little Irish parts," he grinned at her.

"Not so little, Mr.O'Rourke," Sarah sassed. Scott and Ernest hooted at that. This girl was going to give Zelda a run for her money!

As if on cue, a beautiful petite woman wearing a fringed red silk chemise and a short mink coat entered the lobby of the hotel from the street side. She held a cigarette in a long holder and her blonde hair was carefully waved. She had a small entourage of good looking young men who were joking with her and openly flirting with her. She went gaily around with this in the lobby until her feet hit the carpet of the bar room.

Then, she only had eyes for Scott, walking up to him and brazenly kissing him on the mouth in front of everyone. She leaned back on the bar, elbows resting on it and one foot up on the foot rest. Her eyes scanned the room, almost predatorily, Sarah thought.

Once her eyes landed on Jareth and Sarah, it seemed that they were her sole focus, and she headed over to their table. She leaned against Jareth's chair and crossed her legs at the ankles, daintily.

"Mr. Jareth O'Rourke, as I live and breathe! I have not seen you in years, it seems!" She had the accent of an upper crust southerner, Sarah noticed.

"And who is this lovely young thing?" She looked at Sarah. "Jareth, you better behave with this one. I can tell she would not put up with any of _your_ shenanigans!" She smiled brilliantly and approached Sarah's side of the table.

"Zelda Fitzgerald," she said, leaning over to kiss Sarah on both cheeks.

Sarah wasn't sure how to handle this greeting. It seemed somewhat odd to kiss Zelda back, but it also seemed rude not to do so. So she kissed Zelda on both cheeks, then gave her name and complimented her on her beautiful ruby red dress.

Zelda preened, smoothing the sequins down the front of her dress. "I just adore Chanel, don't you? I can spot one a mile away, and _you_ look like the bees knees!"

Sarah grinned, inwardly. So people really did speak like that back then, didn't they? Although, so much of Zelda's speech and other affectations seemed overdone. Sarah couldn't help but like her though. She was so vibrant, exciting and friendly.

Friendly to most, that is. Sarah must've been the only one in the room catching the mutual glares of Zelda and Ernest. Ernest had no use for Zelda, felt she was ruining Scott's career, and wasn't afraid to say so. Zelda, on the other hand, called Hemingway things like a "macho posturer" and a fake. The antipathy between his wife and best friend was clearly difficult on Scott.

"0h! Sarah, do you enjoy music?" Zelda asked. "I remember that Jareth does. The Porters – or should I say les Colportereuses, as they like to be called in France, will be here this evening. Cole hasn't played much lately – unfortunately I think the poor boy has a sense of self-confidence that varies – but when he does come, and you can talk him into playing, it is an absolute delight. Let's get a table over there next to the piano for the evening!"

Cole Porter, Sarah thought. Oh my God. As a musician, one could not _not_ know who he was. And she loved his songs. There were a lot of vintage things that she loved, and music like his was one of them.

When she looked up she saw a beautiful, black Steinway grand piano. There was no one sitting at the pianists' seat yet but probably were no fewer than 10 people, drinks in hand, all leaning on the piano waiting for the player.

A murmur rose through the crowd as a beautiful woman with a bohemian scarf tied around her head approached, followed by a dark haired man. He was somewhat shorter, with dark, wavy hair carefully parted down the middle. He exuded a curious air – a combination of nervousness and extreme politeness.

As people crowded around him, he quietly sat behind the piano - almost like a shield. It was Cole Porter, and Sarah was giddy with seeing the man in person. A drink was placed beside him on the piano and people began calling out suggestions for him to play. He joked quietly with a few of the people standing around him and then did a quick warm-up of scales. Then he started playing; a piece he had been working on for years, played in public, but would not be released as a recording for several years. It began quietly:

"_Like_ _the beat, beat, beat of the tom tom_

_When the jungle shadows fall_

_Like the tick, tick, tock of the stately clock_

_As it stands against the wall_

_Like the drip, drip, drip of the raindrops_

_When the summer show'are is through_

_So a voice within me keeps repeating_

_You, you, you…."_

Sarah had been singing along, without even realizing it. He was playing _Night and Day!_ One of her absolute favorites of the hundreds of his songs. Porter heard her over the piano, and picked up right away on her fine voice. He stopped playing for a moment - hands still on the keyboard. He smiled shyly up at Sarah and gestured her to sit down next to him on the piano bench. Sarah felt her face grow hot. She was not used to this kind of attention.

Porter, the intuitive gentleman, whispered something in her ear. She nodded, silently. When he began again, Sarah was singing along, louder this time:

"_Night and day_

_You are the one_

_Only you 'neath the moon _

_Or under the sun_

_Whether near to me or far_

_No matter, darling where you are_

_I think of you_

_Night and day_

_Day and night – "_

She looked up, and saw Jareth looking at her, proudly. The rest of the crowd seemed split. Some of them were singing along and some were enjoying the music silently.

The lovely woman that had entered with Porter was wearing a sheath dress of completely black sequins. She, too, had a cigarette holder and was smoking at the table along with Zelda. When Porter and Sarah finished the song, Zelda and the other woman were the first to stand up and applaud.

As Sarah returned to her table, Zelda put an arm around Mrs. Porter and introduced her to Sarah. "Linda Lee Thomas," she said, "I would like to introduce you to the lovely Mrs. O'Rourke. Can you believe that Jareth actually got himself married?"

Linda's eyes twinkled at Sarah. "Well, I'm sure there are a lot of heartbroken ladies out there. But it seems to me that Jareth is the one who came out lucky this time!" She reached out her hand for a handshake, and Sarah shook her hand, saying, "It's good to meet you." She was so glad that she had read up on courtesy customs abroad during this era.

Linda, who had not taken Cole's last name, really, took Sarah by the hand, up to the piano, to officially introduce her to her husband.

"Darling," she began, "I should introduce you to your singing partner. This is the lovely Mrs.O'Rourke. That's right, our Jareth went and got himself married. That might explain where he has been for the last year or so."

He rose, and kissed Sarah on either side of her cheeks. Sarah did the same. He looked at her. "Not only are you one of the loveliest women in this room, but you have a voice unlike any I've ever heard. I take it you have had musical training?" He was extremely soft spoken, with warm, dark eyes.

She had, of course. First violin, then a short stint with guitar, and voice lessons. She nodded at Porter.

Linda had come up with an idea. "Darling! I just had the most marvelous idea! Let's have our Sarah sing us a song. If you can keep up, you can always play piano, but if not, I've heard her voice, and it is certainly strong enough to go a cappella."

While the idea was flattering and exciting, it was also terrifying. What if she made a mistake? Forgot the words?Or what if she suddenly went off key? Or…

Jareth had approached her and ran the back of his fingers down the side of her face. "My little Irish Rose can sing almost anything." She blushed. "Would you care to?"

Suddenly she had an idea. It was an ideal song, could be sung a cappella, and would not actually be written and or performed until late in the 20th century. In addition, it was a beautiful Irish homage to the men that were lost in the previous war. It would be a song unlike any other that had been heard during this time.

She nodded her head at Jareth and said, "yes." He and Cole gently lifted her to sit at the top of the piano. Jareth looked up at her and smiled. She sat atop the piano, hands folded on her lap and ankles crossed.

People in the room had started to notice this and milled about curiously before Sarah began. "Are you sure?" she asked. The crowd answered yes. "It will break your heart," she said, beginning to regret her choice.

Jareth shook his head, looking deeply into her eyes, "Already broken," he said. He had been reading her mind again, but this time she found it reassuring. Unseen by others, Jareth had created a sweet red poppy, which he tucked behind her ear.

The song she was about to sing involved musing upon the grave of a young Irish soldier killed during the war. It was a gentle reminder to a government who, it seemed, had ignored the fact that so many Irishman fought for and died for their side. It was an antiwar song that these members of the Lost Generation would surely appreciate at this time. It was also a song that her granddad would sing for her.

While many in the bar had noticed Sarah preparing to sing, Hemingway made sure that those who were not paying attention did. Sarah began –

"I'd like to sing a song for you about the young men we lost in the war. It's called _The Green Fields of France_," She said simply. She started in her clear soprano:

"_Well, how __do you do, young willy mcbride_

_do you mind if i sit here down by your graveside_

_and rest for a while in the warm summer sun_

_i've been walking all day, and i'm nearly done_

_i see by your gravestone you were only nineteen_

_when you joined the great fallen in 1916_

_well i hope you died __well _

_and i hope you died clean_

_o__r young __willy mcbride, was it slow and obscene__?"_

"_did they beat the drums slowly_

_did they play the fife lowly_

_did they sound the death march as they lowered you down_

_did the band play the last post and chorus_

_did the pipes play the flowers of the forest__?"_

"_did __you leave a wife or a sweetheart behind_

_in some loyal heart is your memory enshrined_

_and though you died back in 1916_

_in __that loyal heart __are you __forever nineteen_

_or are you a stranger without even a name _

_forever enshrined behind some old glass pane_

_in an old photograph torn, tattered, and stained_

_and faded to yellow in a brown leather frame__?"_

Atthis point Porter had picked up the chords of the song, and the crowd began singing along with the bridge. She swallowed, hard. This song always got to her, and it seemed like the perfect song in such a time and place.

"_did they beat the drums slowly_

_did they play the fife lowly_

_did they sound the death march as they lowered you down_

_did the band play the last post and chorus_

_did the pipes play the flowers of the forest__?"_

"_the sun __now shines __down on these green fields of france_

_the warm wind blows __gentle __and the red poppies dance_

_the trenches have vanished long under the plow_

_there's no __gas, no barbed wire, __there's __no guns firing now_

_but here in this graveyard that's still no man's land_

_the countless white crosses in mute witness stand_

_t__o a __man's blind indifference to his fellow man_

_and a whole generation were butchered and damned__."_

"_did__ they beat the drums slowly_

_did they play the fife lowly_

_did they sound the death march as they lowered you down_

_did the band play the last post and chorus_

_did the pipes play the flowers of the forest__?"_

" _i can't help but wonder__, __oh willy mcbride_

_do all those who lie here know why they died_

_did you really believe them when they told you the cause_

_did you really believe that this war would end wars_

_well the suffering, the sorrow, the glory, the shame_

_the killing and dying __ \- __was all done in vain_

_for young __willy mcbride__, it__ all happened again_

_and again, and again, and again, and again__"_

"_did they beat the drums slowly_

_did they play the fife lowly_

_did they sound the death march as they lowered you down_

_did the band play the last post and chorus_

_did the pipes play the flowers of the forest__?"_

The room was completely silent. Some eyes were on Sarah, and some were looking down at the floor. Almost every eye had a tear behind it. Hemingway, who had been a war correspondent, and Porter, who had worked for the French Foreign Legion, let the tears run unashamedly down their faces.

Someone in the corner started applauding softly. That applause was joined by others, until the entire room was standing and applauding. Some were wiping away tears. Sarah placed one hand over her throat and smiled gently. Jareth held her by the waist and lowered her carefully to the floor.

_**Green Fields of France**_** (also called **_**No**__**Man's Land**_**) is a beautifully heartbreaking song about the death of a very young Irish soldier during WWI, buried, as so many were, on French soil. There are acres of fields in France with white crosses for soldiers who died during the war. They are poignant and thought-provoking. **

**An anti war song, **_**Green Fields **_**has been covered by musicians as varied as The Fureys to The Dropkick Murphys. It was written and performed by John McDermott, Eric Boyle, and Bobby Edwards in 1976. I highly suggest you pull it up on computer - my favorite version is by The Fureys,****but as I said, it's been covered by many talented artists. See if you can get through it without crying. I know I can't.**

**Whiskey and soda was indeed one of Hemingway's favorites, just as a gin Rickey was Fitzgerald's. Fitzgerald truly did not like absinthe, although Hemingway did. During this era and culture, absinthe was still enjoyed freely by those who could obtain it. A bitter, anise flavored liquor, with hallucinogenic wormwood added, absinthe was banned in the States and later in Europe for its sometimes lethal effects. As Fitzgerald said, however,****nothing was prohibited at the Ritz, even, as Jareth called it, la fée verte – "The Green Fairy".**


	12. 12 I Get a Kick Out of You

"Some people believe that without history, our lives amount to nothing. At some point we all have to choose: do we fall back on what we know, or do we step forward to something new? It's hard not to be haunted by our past. Our history is what shapes us... what guides us. Our history resurfaces time after time after time. So we have to remember sometimes the most important history is the history we're making today." – Sarah O'Rourke

~1926~

Sarah was both thrilled and humbled by the response to "Green Fields". It had always been one of her favorite songs, and it captured the tragedy of war so poignantly. All of these people, in this city, had actually lived through that terrible war - something she had only read about until now. She had made a mental note earlier never to refer to it as World War I, as that would imply that there would be a World War II. It broke her heart that nobody really knew this was coming. She wanted keep a journal of all of this so that she never, ever forgot. She had forgotten to bring down her camera and film earlier but Jareth had and he surreptitiously took some great pictures, she thought. Their camera was definitely a modern one, by 1920s standards, so it would be hard to explain to someone why they had something like that.

She had come up to their room after her solo song, just exhausted from the time travel, she thought, the lateness of the hour, and all of the alcohol.

Not that she wasn't having fun. The thrill of being in such a place and time, the utter unbelievability of conversing with people that she only knew from literature, music, records, history books, and knowing she would see them again in the coming week and probably some new ones, too - that was miraculous.

Somebody was keying their hotel room lock. Kept trying to get the key into the lock, and not succeeding. Followed by a string of Irish curse words. Sarah laughed. Jareth didn't drink much as a rule, but if he had the right people around him, under the right circumstances, he could really throw them back.

Just as he was about to crash through the door with his shoulder, Sarah opened it. He went flying through the hotel room and landed in a heap on the floor after he had collided with the opposite wall.

"Ha, good timing, love," he mumbled. Then he slipped off his shoes and climbed onto the bed. Staring up at the ceiling, hands behind his neck, he said, "I think Zelda broke me." And he reached up an arm to cover his eyes. "Don't know how she did it," he muttered. "She's such a little bitty thing, and she's not even Fae. But she knocked _my_ ass to kingdom come."

Sarah just stood there, watching him. Now he was trying to undo his pocket watch, so he could remove his vest. It wasn't going to happen. She started to laugh a little. After fiddling with the watch unsuccessfully, he turned his head, still on the pillow, looking over to her, and said, "Could you help me? I mean, rather than just standing there laughing at an unfortunate man, one would think you could help him out."

She was laughing harder now, covering her mouth. "Jareth," she said, "Use your right words."

"Please?" He gave her drunken puppy dog eyes. She shook her head no.

"Please, _darling_?" Trying his best to look adorable. "Tra la la?" Another head shake.

"Everything I've done, I've done for you?" He asked plaintively. Nope.

"I can bear it no longer!" he cried out: "Goblin King! Goblin King! Wherever you may be - take this child of mine far away from me!"

Sarah's eyes widened in disbelief and her eyebrow shot up. "Oh crap," squawked Jareth, clapping a hand to his mouth.

"I think I've just bloody sent myself home," he mumbled. "Well, this is very interesting. Somehow, I, Jareth the Goblin King, am going to come and take away I, Jareth the Goblin King. How meta." He begin twiddling with his pocket watch again.

Sarah sighed, then planted herself down the bed beside Jareth. It wasn't hard to do, this taking off the watch thing. But if she were in that condition, it might be difficult to. Besides, he had taken care of her once when she was dead drunk.

Gently she undressed him and covered him with a sheet. In the morning, he would be fine, as he could use his Fae healing powers on himself. She was getting ready to go to bed too. But first, she located her pen.

~ Still 1926~

In the morning, Jareth got out of bed early, doubtless to heal himself. Sarah just lay in bed, sheet over her head, grinning in anticipation.

She heard the shower being turned on to warm up the water and heard Jareth begin to brush his teeth. As vain as he was, he couldn't help but look into every mirror that he saw. Finally she heard a roar from the bathroom.

"What the – who did – " he spluttered into the bedroom and pointed a shaking finger at Sarah, who, by now was laughing hysterically.

Across his forehead, but written backwards so that he could read it in the mirror, someone had written:

I LET A GIRL DRINK ME UNDER THE TABLE!

She had had so much fun doing that to an extremely unconscious Jareth the night before. She had been giggling so hard, she was afraid that no one would be able to read her writing. But here he was, up and about, HRH Goblin King, eyes bugging out, with an hilarious message written on his forehead! She couldn't take it anymore. Screaming with laughter, she rolled out of bed onto the floor.

Suddenly, there was a series of knocks on the door. Certain that it was someone from the hotel asking them to keep it down, Sarah composed her face as best she could, tied the belt on her kimono, and answered the door - laughing behind her hand. Jareth had scrambled behind the bed to hide his nakedness. His look of anticipated humiliation was priceless – especially with the words written across his forehead.

Grinning broadly, Hemingway stood there holding up two champagne bottles and a small box of croissants.

"Food and drink, anyone? Consider this your welcoming room serv-…." He finally saw Jareth's face peeking out from behind the bed, with that ridiculous message written across his face. He was squinting his eyes, trying to decode the backwards letters on Jareth's forehead. Then he burst out into his loud and powerful guffaws.

"You certainly did, old boy! That's why I thought I would bring this to you. Someone should have warned you about drinking games with Zelda. I don't believe that anyone has ever beaten her. And to make things worse, she's sitting downstairs in the dining room right now, perfectly coiffed and dressed. …I don't believe I need anyone to tell me where your message came from." He winked at Sarah, who was still giggling away. This time her face was hidden in the drapes.

Ernest set the champagne and croissants on the desk. "While I was going to join you two, it might be a lot more fun to let you hash this out on your own. We are going over to Gertrude's this afternoon, if you'd care to come. Scott wants to show off his new Renault. See you in a couple of hours?"

Sarah was biting her lip, trying to stop laughing. She nodded yes to Hemingway. Once he was gone, Jareth grabbed Sarah and bent her over his knees. "I'll teach _you_ to make fun of your king!" She squirmed, deliciously.

Suddenly the door opened, and without knocking, in came a French maid. A real French maid, Sarah thought. With bobbed hair, a short little black skirt with white lace, and a feather duster. She took one look at Jareth and Sarah, they looked at her, and she backed out of the room, piping little French apologies over and over again until she shut the door. Sarah wiggled her fingers at her in goodbye.

She twisted around so she could see Jareth's face. "What's next?" She asked, brightly.

Jareth closed his eyes. "I hate that I love you so much," he said. "Give me a damn croissant."

Sitting on the floor a while later, leaning back against the bed, Jareth looked sadly at the empty box of croissants. At least they still had one bottle of champagne left. Sarah thought it was terribly unfair that Fae didn't have to suffer hangovers.

Currently she was scrubbing off all of her last night's vandalism on his forehead with warm water and soap. He could have magicked it off, but she had offered, and not only did it feel wonderful, he was able to get a good view of her breasts occasionally between the kimono folds.

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing," she smiled.

His face was all innocence and soap. "What?" he asked.

"I think I'm getting better at this Anam Cara thing we have. I've found that if I really focus, I can get into your head, just a little bit. Enough to know that, yes, you certainly _do_ have a lot of naughtiness in there. But it's also as though there are lots of doors that I can't open." Her tongue was sticking out between her teeth as she concentrated on removing the last of the ink from his face.

"There's a reason for that, my love," he purred. "What kind of monarch would I be if people were allowed to know everything that I know?"

"Yes, but I'm not just any people. I am _your_ person. And you're mine," she smiled.

And you _really_ need to tell me how you know these people already. You've said nothing to me about it. What's up with that?"

"Love," he said, opening the second bottle of champagne. "Do you have any idea how old I am?"

She knew that he must be, really, quite old. But oddly enough, this had not come up in conversation before. She couldn't believe it. Perhaps because he generally behaved, now, at least, as though they were the same age - and at times, much younger.

"How old _are_ you, Jareth?" She had no idea what she was going to hear.

He'd gotten the cork out of the bottle and looked at her. While pouring her some of the champagne into one of the hotel room glasses, he looked into her eyes, and said, "I am a little more than 500 years old."

She didn't know what to say. Obviously she knew that he was immortal. But even immortals are born at some point. Doing some math in her head, she was astounded to think of how much history he must have already seen.

"And how often did you go Aboveground in your lifetime?" she asked.

He held up a finger as he was taking a sip of champagne from his glass. "Quite frequently, actually. For various reasons. Every Royal immortal is assigned several outliers to look after, we like to keep abreast of things that are happening in your world, I myself came up to attend University, although not everyone does, and then, sometimes I would come up here just for fun."

"For fun." she stated. "What does that mean?"

"Oh, you know. Sightseeing, catching up with friends, partying - far too much partying, women…" sounding like he wanted to take that last part back, he added, "Museums, getting to know some fascinating artists and writers that were always favorites of mine, things like that. I've always been very curious about the Above."

The ugly sting of jealousy hit her heart. She knew it shouldn't have. More than likely she hadn't even been born when he had had his little affairs. But it still bothered her. A lot.

"Oh sure," she replied nonchalantly. "I get that. A lot of the same things that I did when I was at University. Just not on as grand a scale." She was getting in a jealousy dig. Immature, probably. Insecure, definitely. Childish, more than likely. Baiting him.

She saw a fire flash across his eyes, then quickly disappear. "Oh? What sorts of things were you up to at University?"

"Oh," she replied casually, "You know, California has all kinds of wonderful things to do, so, things with friends – beaches, redwoods, hiking, wineries. San Francisco. Carmel. Monterey. LA sometimes. School parties, those could get pretty wild. And I dated quite a bit." She left it there. Let him try to figure out what that meant exactly.

He was sitting up more now. "I figured that you must've dated. I mean, how could you not have? You're intelligent, curious, funny, gorgeous….anyone would be a fool not to want you. Besides," he finished quietly, "I knew it the first time we made love. "

Oh.

"And my part of that is over as well. It had actually been over 25 years since I had last been with anyone when I first met you." He looked at her closely, trying to identify her emotions.

Of course they would have had prior relationships, she thought. She had been being insecure and mean. This jealousy was foolish and destructive, and ruining a wonderful morning. That little twinge was probably always going to be there, but she wasn't going to let it damage anything. She pushed it away, mentally.

She looked at his beautiful face. He was her husband. They had chosen each other, no one else, no matter what they'd done in the past. And if she so chose, they would spend hundreds, maybe thousands of years together. She reached for him. Holding his face in her hands, she kissed him deeply, then rested her forehead against his, both of them closing their eyes.

After a few moments, he pulled away to look into her eyes. "Permission to see what's on your mind? Mine's an open book." She focused, and felt an overwhelming wave of intense love for her that was almost physically hot.

"Wow," she smiled.

He smiled back at her. "Told you so."

"Go ahead. Do mine. And thank you for asking permission."

He gazed at her for a moment. His eyes were twinkling. Then he said, "I don't deserve you. I am so incredibly lucky to have found you." He pulled her in to sit on his lap while he ran the back of his fingers down her cheek.

She sighed and leaned her head against him. "We're pretty sickening, aren't

we?"

She felt a little chuckle in his chest. "Oh, absolutely disgusting," he agreed.


	13. 13 Brush Up on Your Shakespeare

"In life, sometimes the answer we get, just confirms our worst fears. But sometimes it can shed new light on the problem. You see it in a whole new way. After all the opinions have been heard and every point of view has been considered, you finally find what you were after. The Truth. But the truth isn't where it ends. That's just where you begin again. With a whole new set of questions." – Sarah O'Rourke

~1926~

Sarah reached for Jareth's hand, and entwined their fingers together. She was thoughtful for a moment. "So. How do you know all these people? I'm assuming you've been here before, and since you couldn't time travel until now you must've actually lived through it. Were you watching over an outlier? Or are there more than one?"

Jareth squeezed her hand. "You've pretty much got it. My main purpose, when I was here last, was checking on Ernest. He is one of my outliers. You're probably not surprised, although there are many gifted, curious, and highly intelligent people here. Hemingway isn't the only one right now," he added. "I've known him for a good deal of his adult life, he knows what I am, and it is my job to make sure that he is able to operate successfully in this world. You may remember, that I have told you that outliers often experience severe mental health issues in dealing with the world. To be so gifted, and to make your way through a world that not only does not acknowledge those gifts, but sometimes punishes one for having them, can be painful, to say the least."

"You seem to be less like a supporter and more like a good friend to him", she observed.

Jareth laughed a little. "You picked up on that? We are absolutely close friends. It's impossible not to be, with him. I am not as friendly with all of my outliers, but Hemingway and I have a special relationship, difficult as he can be at times."

"I can see where one difficult person might be close to another difficult person," Sarah smiled. "And what about Fitzgerald? And Zelda? And Cole? Are they? Does anyone else here know who you really are?"

Jareth looked up at the ceiling and smiled, "Want to play a game? Since this is our honeymoon and it's all about having fun and learning new things, why don't you get to know people and then at the end of it, I'll ask you who you think the outliers were. And then I'll tell you if you were right. This way, you're not going to have any preconceived ideas about these people until you have met them."

She gave him a huge smile. "I like it. Shall we get dressed for breakfast? Sounds like we can meet Ernest and the Fitzgeralds after that."

She asked Jareth to dress her much like yesterday, but this time in something for daytime and something for a salon.

When he was done, she was wearing one of Coco Chanel's little black dresses, a relatively simple sheath dress, this time with three-quarter long sleeves and a boat neck. She had ropes of pearls and tiny pearls in her ears, he had also given her matching gloves, shoes, a quilted bag, and a bell shaped, cloche hat. She wasn't sure about the hat, but she loved the bag and decided to keep it. This new look was more sophisticated and intellectual, which would be perfect for this afternoon. Looking into the mirror, she nodded in approval and looked at Jareth.

He was wearing something today that almost looked more like his clothing back home. Slim black trousers, black wingtips. A white pleated dress shirt, thin black tie with a long, double breasted black coat. Soft gray gloves and a matching flat cap. He was carrying a matching umbrella. Unbelievable. What was it about seeing him dressed up in period clothing that drove her wild? She tipped her head to the side and let out a soft sigh. "Jareth, you know it is our honeymoon. When some people have honeymoons they never get out of bed. Maybe we could skip this for today…"

"Why? Darling, do you know the people that we will probably be seeing today? And if you're nervous about Gertrude, I can fill you in on a lot of things first… "

"It's not that," she smiled, "you just look good enough to eat, is all." She walked into his open arms.

"The feeling is mutual," he kissed the top of her head. "I think I'm going to take you up on that tonight."

After breakfast at the hotel, they met Ernest, Scott and Zelda in the hotel lobby. Scott was waiting for a valet to pull up his new car. When it arrived, Sarah took in a breath. It looked like something out of a movie. It was a long, sweeping, graceful convertible lacquered in a red so deep it was almost black. It had a leather convertible top, which was up. It was a Renault 45 CV, the exact model owned by the president of France himself at that time. It could reach speeds of up to 100 mph. Scott insisted on driving it himself, and they headed out.

The salons of Paris at that time consisted of social gatherings of people, generally artists, authors, musicians, socialites, royalty, and others who would come together and hold discussions for the betterment of themselves and their art. Ideally, these intellectuals tried to maintain the three principles of a proper salon:

politesse, civilité and honnêteté. (politeness, civility, and honesty.) In truth, dependent upon the personalities of those involved, and how much alcohol might be involved, the politesse and civilité might not always be up to par.

As they drove to Gertrude's, Jareth whispered in Sarah's ear, "Don't be intimidated by Gertrude. She likes to do that to people, especially if they're new. She's easier on women then on men, but she's very judgmental and overly critical. However, I have no doubt that you and your quick wit can hold your own with her. You've held your own with a Goblin King!" And then he mused quietly, "And you can hold your own with The Goblin King in _bed…."_

"Damn straight!" She good-naturedly elbowed him in the side. Not too hard, though. Although, she thought, she probably couldn't ever really hurt him.

"Yes you could," he said. Eavesdropping on her thoughts. "You've broken my heart at least four times and you will always have the ability to do it again."

She stared at him in shock. To hear such poignant vulnerability was not only painful but heartbreaking. She really wanted to go into this further with him, but now would not be the place. "I need to talk to you about that," she whispered back. "If you have _any_ doubts about how much I love you and that it will be forever, then I need to do what I can to assure you."

He smiled at her with an expression she couldn't quite read. "I know," he said. "I just wanted to let you know that as far as you're concerned, I am as vulnerable as anyone else. Maybe more so."

He reached for her hand and held it, looking at that instead of her. Then he went back to the salon topic. "So, anything about Gertrude you'd like to know? Before we get there?"

"Not really. I know she was an avant-garde American writer, eccentric, and self-styled genius whose Paris home was a salon for the leading artists and writers of the period between World Wars I and II. I know she went to Radcliffe, got a psych degree, and also studied at Johns Hopkins, although she never finished that degree."

"At her salon she and her partner Alice mingled with expat American writers whom she called the "Lost Generation," including Sherwood Anderson and Hemingway, and other visitors drawn by her literary reputation. I know they were friends with Picasso and Matisse. Her literary and artistic judgments were revered, and her chance remarks could make or destroy reputations. How'd I do?" She looked up at him affectionately.

"Show off," he said. His eyes were smiling, though. "I think you might know more about her than I do. I have no business worrying about you at all, do

I?"

"Pretty much not," and she snuggled into him.

Once they entered the flat, Sarah was almost overtaken by the blue cloud of cigarette smoke. There had been some at the Ritz the other day, as well, and she knew to expect it. Still, for someone from her generation, this was a bit much. Jareth introduced her to Gertrude, a larger middle-aged woman with something of an imperious look about her. He also told Gertrude some basics about Sarah that he thought she might find interesting:

That she had gone to Stanford, graduated two years early with a double degree, could speak five languages fluently, played several instruments and sang. Stein's eyebrows rose a bit. She seemed impressed.

Sarah's smile and handshake were friendly but firm. She wanted this woman to know that even though she was young, she was no one to be trifled with.

Gertrude, who was smoking a cigar, asked if Sarah wanted one, and she politely declined. Then she asked if she would like a drink, and Sarah said yes. She had decided to try one of the gin Rickeys that Scott enjoyed so much. When he saw her across the room with one, he silently raised his glass to her and smiled.

Gertrude, it seemed, had now decided that Jareth was unnecessary and ordered him to speak to Marcel Proust. Jareth gave an exasperated sigh and headed off to Proust. Commandeering Sarah, she then lead her about the rooms. She introduced her to her partner Alice, Pablo Picasso, and others whose names she couldn't remember. There was no point in introducing her to Ernest, Scott, or Zelda, as they were already familiar with one another.

Eventually, they found themselves in Gertrude's small, shady courtyard. Gertrude obtained Sarah another drink and a pack of cigarettes, while she kept to her cigars and whatever she was drinking.

Sarah was looking doubtfully at the pack of Gitanes when she heard Gertrude firing questions off at her in French like a machine gun. Where were you born? Where have you been? Did you enjoy your studies? How did you find California? Do you like to travel? Who are your favorite writers? Artists? Why? What is your favorite music? Are you going back to the States? What is your stance on French politics after the war? Should Germany still be held accountable? What were you doing during the war? Where were you during the war? Why did you get married when marriage was becoming unnecessary in these times?

She held her own, giving short, rapid answers in perfect French, unwilling to ever let Gertrude have the upper hand. The last three questions, however, were different. She had to lie about where she had been during the war and what she was doing. Within a second she had decided to simply say that she had been studying stateside. The marriage question rankled her, and she said so.

"That's none of your business," she said sharply. "I don't know you well enough to give you that information, nor do I owe it to you. Frankly I find it offensive that you should even ask."

The two women looked across the table at one another, Stein almost challenging and Sarah quite fiercely. She was not going to back down, she wasn't even going to blink.

Finally the tension broke. Gertrude removed her cigar and laughed. Sarah relaxed a little, but could still feel her spine ramrod straight. "You were testing me, weren't you?" She said, boldly. It was not a question.

Gertrude responded in English. "You could say that. You intrigue me. I wanted to get to know you better. I wanted to take your measure. I wanted to see if you were worth my time."

Sarah crossed her arms, leaned back, and gave the most glorious eyebrow arch she had given in her life. "Really?" she drawled, ala Jareth. Inside, she had begun working on a slow boil for the past half hour.

"If _I _were worth _your _time?" She let out a light laugh."Exactly what is it about you that makes you think that I should _care_?" Sarah was finished with this woman's games. "You don't impress me. My education is equal to or greater than yours. My intelligence is most likely greater. I have seen things, accomplished things, and been places in this world that you could not ever imagine. I can hold my own with anyone, and that includes you and any man. You have nothing to teach me, and I frankly find you tedious. Good day."

At which point she stood, gracefully swiped up the cigarettes from the table and left the courtyard, calling out casually over her shoulder, "And as for Germany, you'd best not turn your back, but I believe you've already made plans for that."

Jareth had been standing in the second level screened porch overlooking the back courtyard. He had his arms folded, and a slight smile graced his lips. This was one of those moments, and there were many, that he was so impressed by his wife that she took his breath away.

He found her, smoking, in the ruelle near Scott's car. She looked every inch the independent, intelligent and strong modern woman. She didn't even look rattled. Rather, she looked exuberant. And quite frankly, smoking suited her.

Right now he just wanted to drag her off to bed. Any bed at all, as long as it was close.

She smiled when she saw him watching her. Slowly, she blew a perfect smoke ring through her perfect red lips. Good gods. Where has she learned _that_?

"So. How much of that did you see?" She straightened one of her pearl earrings.

"Pretty much everything that happened once you two had sat down in the courtyard. I take it she was not what you expected?"

"Oh, she was what I expected. She was everything I had read about and more. I wanted to meet her, and I did. And I lost none of the self respect that so many others did in knowing her. I don't care what her contributions were. Frankly she seems to me to be – a self important parasite. I may have also intimated that I already knew she'd be collaborating with the Germans."

Jareth looked her for a long, silent while. He looked at his pocket watch, then looked at the front door of the Stein home, then at Scott's car. When he looked at Sarah again, she watching him, a smile in her eyes.

Feeling theatrical and so incredibly hot for his wife, he approached her and took her roughly by the waist, holding her to him. He took her cigarette, inhaled the blue smoke himself, tossed it away and gave her a deep kiss that left her breathless.

"I am taking you in Scott's brand new car right now. In the backseat. On that fine leather. I want you so much right now that I am going to tear your panties off and have my way with you. Most likely more than once."

Her green eyes blazed and then almost seem to glaze over. "Oh," she promised, "It will be more than once."

Roughly an hour later, the two of them were straightening their clothing in the backseat of Fitzgerald's car. They were both smiling and laughing together. Sarah was looking into a compact mirror and trying to reapply her lipstick while laughing. She looked over at Jareth and tried combing his hair with her fingers.

He leaned back and looked at her carefully. After a minute he said, "I was so incredibly impressed and turned on by what I saw today. Not that you aren't always impressing me and turning me on…"

She beamed at him. "Thank you. I definitely think that it was a growth experience for me. I had wanted to meet Stein, was disappointed when I did, but refused to give her anything. She's a bully, and I have no time for that."

"No," he chuckled, "you most certainly did _not_ give her a thing. You outmatched her as soon as she thought she could interrogate you in French. Plus that little slap at the end about Germany was priceless. You had walked away, but I was able to see the look on her face."

"You reminded me of the 16-year-old Sarah I had first met. The one who most definitely put me in my place. Except that now she's grown up, and become even more intelligent, strong, and impressive." He held her hand, then held it to his face.

"You are going to make a queen of historic proportions, love. You are absolutely majestic already. I cannot wait to be your king."

They were silently staring into one another's eyes when somebody smacked the outside of the car, making them both jump. They looked out the window to see Hemingway's broad smile. He pulled open the door, and said, "I wondered where in the hell you two had gone. Wasn't too hard to imagine, though. What I love is that you were able to christen Scott's car before he could!"

Sarah smiled, looking up at the ceiling innocently. Both Jareth and Ernest laughed heartily.

Ernest actually reached out a hand to ruffle Jareth's hair. She figured there was probably no one else in the world besides her that could ever get away with that.

"Well," Sarah started, "You know what they say: what happens in the Renault…"

"Stays in the Renault!" finished Jareth.

"What a hackneyed phrase!" said Hemingway, opening the lid of his flask. "Whoever thought that up should be shot."


	14. 14 Smoke Gets in Your Eyes

"Don't let fear keep you quiet. You have a voice so use it. Speak up. Raise your hands. Shout your answers. Make yourself heard. Whatever it takes, just find your voice, and when you do, fill the damn silence." – Sarah O'Rourke

~1926~

Once they had all returned to the hotel, they stopped at the bar for a while.

They seated themselves at one of the round tables so that they could speak more easily. There was discussion as to thoughts on the salon, who spoke to whom, who was an ass, who might bep coming up with something great, and then Scott suddenly remembered something.

"Sarah, how did you and Gertrude get along?"

When she said nothing, just gave a slight smile, he continued, "Because she was made up with you! I must say I have never seen her that impressed with anyone upon a first meeting."

She widened her eyes at him, trying to figure out if he were joking.

He went on, "She made it a point to tell me personally what a genius she believes you are. She said she's looking forward to seeing how you use your talents in the future. She also said that you completely shut her down, and that she was unable to browbeat you whatsoever. She said she found you refreshing."

Sarah sighed, not impressed. "Thank you for letting me know, Scott. To be quite honest, the feeling is most definitely not mutual. But it's not as if my career depends upon her opinion of me, either. I feel for anyone who has to kowtow to her in order to succeed at their work." Suddenly she regretted that last sentence. People like Ernest and Scott most definitely did need to be in Gertrude's good graces. She knew that historically, and in the circle of literature greats.

"I am sorry," she said. "I hope I haven't offended anyone."

Zelda looked straight at her. "Please tell me you did not just apologize for speaking your mind. For chrissakes, it's 1926! The Victorians are dead and gone!"

Ernest shook his head in agreement. It was rare for him to agree with Zelda on anything. "I wouldn't have anyone in my social circle who was afraid to speak their mind," he stated. "Unapologetically. While we all have to play politics with people like Gertrude and others, between friends, honesty is absolutely necessary. Not to mention a hell of a lot more fun. Who wants to go around censoring themselves all the time anyway?"

"I'm afraid it's something I've never been any good at," said Jareth, wryly.

"What? asked Scott with a smile, "Honesty or censorship?" People around the table laughed.

"Neither," said Jareth proudly, a twinkle in his eye. Sarah grabbed his wrist and laughed. "Stand back, ladies, he's all mine!"

They whiled away the rest of the afternoon in the companionable warmth that alcohol brings. Jareth innocently asked Zelda a question. "So, Zelda, you're a smoker,"

"Who isn't?" asked Scott.

Jareth had to acquiesce. It did seem as though everyone in this generation was a smoker. He certainly knew that he could be – even knowing the health risks, but as an immortal that was a moot point.

He continued, "I was wondering if you could elucidate me."

"That shouldn't be difficult," snarked Hemingway, before throwing one back.

Sarah was finding, more and more, how much fun most of these people were.

"And as I was saying," continued Jareth in his elegant accent, "I believe that there are certain tricks you women do with cigarette smoke, am I correct?"

Zelda was giving him a positively evil smile. Scott burst into laughter. "What? That was a simple enough question," Jareth seemed defensive.

Zelda looked around the table, winking at Sarah. "Jareth, what kind of tricks did you have in mind?" More laughter.

"Well, you know, breathing out smoke in different shapes and such." Again Zelda looked at Sarah they both smiled.

Here Zelda started playing dumb. "I don't get it. Blowing smoke from where?"

"Your lips, of course. " Jareth had no idea where this was headed.

"_Which_ lips, darling?" smirked Zelda. The look on her face was absolutely filthy. Scott was laughing silently into his sleeve. Sarah was dying inside. Hemingway just kept silently shaking his head back-and-forth.

Suddenly Zelda felt pity for Jareth. "You mean _these_ lips, darling?" she asked, pointing to her own, "Because women do have more than one set of lips, you know."

Something dawned in Jareth's eyes. He hated being the last one to figure something out. But he was still incredulous.

"You mean you can do smoke tricks – " and he pointed toward his lap, trailing off.

Sarah looked at him, eyebrows raised. "Only girls can do those, darling," she smiled.

He said, frankly, "I started out asking how you blew that smoke circle this afternoon, and figuring that there must be some more fun tricks that you girls do. I had no idea there was…."

Sarah thought it was so incredibly adorable that he was innocent about this. She also thought it was adorable that he was so fascinated by her doing them. Oh well, it was the Roaring '20s.

She lit one of the Gitanes that Gertrude had given her, holding it out delicately. "Have you seen the French Inhale?" she asked.

Sarah inhaled deeply, held it in her mouth, then gently exhaled, and breathed the smoke back in through her nose. "It's also called ghost inhaling." Jareth was mesmerized.

Zelda's cigarette was lit by now as well, and she said, "So Sarah blew you a smoke ring this afternoon? Like this?" And she made one. Sarah, sitting next to her, blew a double one through her red lips as well.

Jareth was finding all of this so hot - which was probably the girls' intention. Then they really blew his mind.

He saw them whisper together for a few seconds, both of them nodding their heads. Sarah looked at him. "Have you ever seen a shotgun?"

Zelda took a deep smoke inhalation, and then gave Sarah a long, soft kiss. When they pulled away, Sarah exhaled the smoke in her mouth that she had gotten from Zelda. The look that she gave him was so seductive he thought he would come right there.

All three men looked at one another.

"'Nother drink, please! Called Ernest, down the bar at Georges.

Scott was kissing Zelda's neck, and she was giggling.

"Any other smoke tricks you would like to see?" asked Sarah, silkily.

That was it. "Love, I believe we should head up to our room for a while," he said, huskily.

As they quietly left their friends to head upstairs, the Fitzgeralds had decided they would do the same. That left Ernest sitting all alone, with no one to drink with.

"Damnit," he said. "I need to go call my wife."

Instead of taking the stairs, Sarah took Jareth by the hand to the elevators. This was a fantasy of hers that she had always had. She whispered into the elevator operator's ear and handed him a five franc note. He stepped out of the elevator quickly, nodding at Sarah with a smile.

She pulled Jareth into the elevator by his tie and pulled the elevator gate shut. He pulled the button for their floor, reached for her, giving soft, sucking kisses at the base of her neck and shoulder, then he hit the button mid floor so that it came to a stop.

He backed her up against the elevator wall, and she wrapped her legs around him. With his Fae strength, he was able to hold her up with one arm while undoing his trousers. He tore her panties off and pulled her toward him, unable to resist her heat and his need. As he kissed and sucked on her neck, she threw her head back in ecstasy.

He began kissing her up to her jawline and claimed her mouth with incredible heat and passion. His tongue twined around hers, feeling the hot velvet softness, how she tasted slightly of smoke and lemon. Her tongue was stroking the underside of his, she was pulling him toward her.

"Jareth!"

Jareth thrust Sarah's skirt out of the way.

He drew her toward his aching hardness and all he thought was _Now_.

Cupping the perfect curve of her bottom, he used his other hand to gently slip his fingers inside of her. She arched, trembled, her delicate aching flesh yearning for him.

With strength and control he slowly lowered her onto his hot length. When he felt how wet she was for him, it was all he could do to keep it slow.

She cried out when she felt him thrust inside her, deeper and deeper. Too quickly, she was overcome by a burning heat, wave after wave between her legs. Her entire body was shuddering as she sobbed his name into his neck. He could feel her when she came and controlled himself until she did. Then he convulsed violently inside her, growling into her neck to try to keep himself quiet.

Sarah let the back of her head fall against the elevator wall. She looked up at the ceiling and laughed breathlessly, "Oh my God, Jareth, you have no idea what you do to me. This was something I've always wanted to try, and you brought it to levels I had never even imagined. I love you so much."

Jareth kissed her deeply, then looked into her eyes. His beautiful blue and brown ones, her green ones. "My love, he said, "You are always surprising me in wonderful ways. My Anam Cara." He treated her to his incredible smile.

When they returned to their room there was a black and gold embossed card waiting for them on the entryway table. Sarah opened it.

Jareth looked over her shoulder as he walked past. "Who is it from?"

Sarah read the beautiful engraved art deco invitation. "It's from Cole and Linda," she said. "They are having one of their fabulous parties tomorrow evening, and they'd like us to be there. It won't start until nine."

You want to go, don't you?" Her eyes were shining. "I've read about these. They started late and went literally into the next day and yes, you were locked in. That way the musicians would have to keep playing. Although you and I won't really be. Scott was the one who actually came up with the whole concept of the Jazz Age. Their Paris apartment is supposed to be just divine. We would meet some incredible people, the food, the champagne, the caviar – "

Jareth came around behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. He kissed her neck, which bore several love bites. Those would need to be covered before the party. "Do I have permission to dress my lovely wife for this occasion?" he asked. Jareth's sense of fashion was so artistic and dramatic.

"I would love that," she smiled.

"I'm thinking floor-length, single shoulder, beads, sequins, fringe, and black diamond jewelry. I know diamonds aren't usually your thing, love, but trust me on this one. And I get to wear a tuxedo!" While it seemed that most men hated them, Jareth loved getting dressed up for special occasions, and she knew that he would look absolutely marvelous in a tux, especially a 1920s one. She could not wait.

Their plans for this evening were to meet Ernest and James Joyce at one of Ernest' favorite pubs on the Montparnesse. La Closerie des Lila, one of Hemingway's favorites, would be the destination. They weren't going to arrive until 8 o'clock however, so there was time for a shower and a quick nap. Sarah needed to recharge.

While Jareth was in the shower, Sarah took her journal to a small table near the back of their suite by the window where the light was good. She had a hot cup of tea. She took a sip, and set it down. Something moved outside in the garden of the hotel and the movement flashed in the corner of her eye. She looked more closely, and she saw a child outside there. It was a little girl, maybe only 3 or four years old with long straight dark hair, straight dark eyebrows and she was wearing a little white sleeveless dress. She seemed to be just playing imaginatively around in the garden, but Sarah could see no adults that would be watching her. There should be someone watching her. She was too little to be out on her own. Sarah left to go down to the garden.

Once she got outside, she was within only feet of the child and could see her much better. Across the bridge of her nose and her cheeks was a constellation of tiny freckles, her straight dark hair had been pulled back, and her brows made her look older and more serious than she really was. Sarah smiled at her, not wanting to alarm her. "Hello! I'm Sarah. What's your name?" The child was not looking at her, playing instead with some of the flowers she had found in the garden. When she did turn to Sarah though, she had a beautiful smile, and beautiful, unusual eyes that made Sarah take in a sharp breath. One was light blue with a regular sized pupil, and the other brown, with an extremely dilated pupil. Sarah had only known one person in her entire life with eyes like that.

She got down on her knees next to the little girl. "These flowers are pretty, aren't they?" She asked the girl. "My name is Sarah," she said again, because the child hadn't answered the first time. "What is your name?" The child looked up at her again with those hauntingly beautiful eyes, and said with a laugh in her voice as if Sarah should already know, "I'm Saoirse! You're my mommy! You know that. Silly." Then she skipped off on a different path toward the fountain. Sarah followed her until the path curved around some hedges. She continued following the path to the fountain but the child was nowhere to be seen. After fruitlessly searching the hotel gardens for at least 30 minutes, Sarah went back upstairs to her room. This had been so unsettling, and she felt something was happening that should not be. She needed to speak to Jareth a soon as possible.

When she got back up to the room, Jared was out of the shower and reading on the bed. In the nude. She just stood there, holding the door knob, and staring at him. He was so perfect, so gorgeous. It took her a moment to remember what it was that she needed to talk to him about it.

"Mmmm. Hello love. I'm out of the shower. Unless you would like me to join you in yours?" He smiled at her. "It is our honeymoon, remember?" She would have loved that, and probably would as soon as possible. But first she had to tell him about this little girl.

While she was telling him everything, he sat back up on his elbows and looked at her very seriously. He wrapped a towel around his waist and stood up. "And her name was Sairose?"

"Yes, which is really weird, because it's been on my shortlist for baby girl names. And Jareth, she looked just like me! My hair, my eyebrows, my freckles when I was little… but she had your eyes! And she didn't seem frightened or anything. It was like she already knew me."

Now he was looking concerned, and began to pace the carpet of their bedroom. "I wonder if this is related to our backwards time travel," he muttered. "I thought I had everything figured out. I thought I had covered _every_ conceivable variable…."

Sarah's uncertainty had now grown into something larger, seeing him respond like this. "Jareth, do you think – with the time travel - do you think she's ours somehow?And where is she right now?"

Jareth's brows were knitted. Quickly he crossed the floor and placed his hand on her abdomen and gently moved it around. "No, you're not pregnant. I'd be able to tell." He pulled her into his arms, comforting her. "We will figure this out love," he said. "It may have been some incredible fluke, but if not, I will figure it out and we will work this through together."

He pulled away from her so he could see her face, and gave a gentle smile. "Besides, would having my child be such a terrible thing?"

"No, of course not. And you know that I want that very much. But this – I don't understand. This was not a baby, Jareth. She was about three years old. She was beautiful, Jareth. I wish you could've seen her. With your eyes, and so many of my features together…."

"We will have beautiful children, love. Being Fae, it may take some time to conceive, as you know. Not to mention the fact that we need to discuss whether you wish to pursue your immortality and when."

"Right now, I think we should both go back down to the garden together and look for her. She may not come to me if I go alone. But she seems to know you already, so. And I think we should also give this information to the concierge, in case this child is staying here at the hotel with her parents – they may be worried about her."

She gave him a worried smile. He reached for her hand and held it. "Love, let's not borrow trouble. Whatever this is, and it may be nothing, we will handle it together."

**Saoirse = SARE-sha. Old Irish name that became more popular in the 1920s, meaning freedom, or independence. This could have been related to The Irish War of Independence (Irish: Cogadh na Saoirse) **

**Most smokers were men until the 1920s when cigarette companies began to target women with advertising by marketing smoking as glamourous and demonstrating independence. ... The underlying message of this campaign is that smoking is related to women's freedom, emancipation and empowerment. **

**Flappers were among the first to smoke in public, drink alcohol, dance unescorted at jazz clubs and practiced a sexual freedom that (deliberately and unsurprisingly) shocked the Victorian morality of their parents.**

**Gitanes cigarettes were launched in 1910, originally with four different varieties. Because of the dark brown tobacco that was used in production, the cigarettes tended to have a blue smoke. They are still available in Europe including France, today. Interesting note: these were some of the favorite cigarettes of both John Lennon and David Bowie.**


	15. 15 Welcome to Bohemia

"When something begins you generally have no idea how it's going to end." ~ Jareth

He ordered up a bottle of champagne for them while they were getting ready to head to the Café. For fun, but also because Sarah was still jittery about the events of the afternoon. Truth be told, Jareth was as well, but he did not want to let Sarah know how concerned he was yet and worry her unnecessarily.

While Sarah was showering, Jareth was going over his most critical equations for time travel in his head. He had a photographic memory, and a Fae brain, so between the two he should have been able to see if there was a problem. It didn't look as if there were. Because Sarah had seemed so spooked, however, he was going to continue to study this.

She emerged from the shower with a towel wrapped around her, sat down on the bed and proceeded to apply her skin lotion. It was too bad they were running late already, or he would've jumped on her.

"I felt that," she said. She was getting better and better at getting inside his head. Damn!

"OK," she gave him a seductive smile, "Try this one." She gave him an image of the dress she wanted to wear this evening. It was an emerald green, sleeveless flapper dress with long black fringe. It was accented with more black fringe and sequins in chevron designs all over the dress, and this time included a matching green beaded headband and long beaded jet earrings that brushed her shoulders. Because she hadn't been specific about the shoes, he decided to give her a pair of strappy 3" stiletto heels. Her gorgeous body looked even more incredible when she was wearing those.

He flicked a wrist, and she was ready. Breathtaking. He had done her make up and hair as well, even though she hadn't asked. They could always change it if she wanted him to. Once she had turned away from the mirror, she had a very pleased smile on her face.

"Perfect! But love, I don't think they wore shoes like this back then…"

"They didn't. I'm taking some creative license here. I figured, we're going to be in a fairly dark café and I love the way they look on you, so – " and he gave her the Jareth grin.

She laughed. "And you? Who will you be tonight?"

He snapped his fingers, and she could see immediately that he was wearing a suit very similar to the one he had worn the first night here. It was wool tweed, with a longer jacket and waist coat, but this time it was a very light grey with a white shirt and ocean blue tie and pocket square. Instead of a peaky hat, he was wearing a soft gray fedora and carrying a cane. He had on black, glossy wingtips and he was wearing round eyeglasses. He had also given himself a very small, manicured beard and mustache.

She liked this new look too. She couldn't imagine anyone she would have more fun playing dress-up with than her husband. Suddenly, he spun around and his walking cane came to rest on his shoulder.

"Do I remind you of anybody?"

"That's it! You have a definite James Joyce thing going on tonight! Is that deliberate?"

"Actually it is. He could tend to be kind of shy and close mouthed around people he didn't know, at least at first. While he knows me, he hasn't met you yet. I wanted to put him at ease. I'm mostly going to leave him to you tonight, as I know he's one of your favorite authors. There's no way you _won't_ charm him looking like that, and he hasn't even met his wife yet, so he won't have any compunctions about talking to you. Plus I'm going to get him good and liquored up, which is one of his normal states of being anyway."

She nodded her head looking at him. "You are an evil genius!"

"Of course I am! I'm the Goblin King!" Sarah took the arm he offered her.

"That you are. I'd love to kiss you but I have so much lipstick on…" He grinned.

Their plans for this evening were to meet Ernest and James at one of Ernest's favorite pubs on the Montparnesse, La Closerie des Lila.

They headed down to the lobby where the concierge would call them a taxi. Sarah stepped up to the desk. "Bonjour, pouvez vous m'appeler un taxi pour le café Closerie des Lila, s'il vous plait?" Once she had given the concierge the name of the pub, she walked back to Jareth, leaning on his cane, gazing out the windows and looking quite dapper with his newly acquired facial hair and glasses.

"Remind me, please," he spoke quietly. "What is Joyce's latest book, and what has he written so far? I know that you know far more about that than I do right now."

"So far he's written a collection of poems called Chamber Music, the collection of short stories Dubliners, Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, And Oooh!" Here she became very excited, "Four years ago he finally finished Ulysses. It's been banned in Britain and the States, so Sylvia Beach here in Paris is the only one that's agreed to publish it. Hemingway is smuggling in between 2 to 4 copies at a time to the States for him. Have you read that book? It's huge! I can't believe he can even hide two! So, very exciting times."

She did a little dance, and Jareth smiled indulgently at her. He was enjoying this so much, and mostly because of Sarah and watching her joy in it all.

The Ritz doorman saw their taxi approach, and opened the front doors of the hotel for them. He then opened the taxi door for them and they entered.

Upon arrival at La Closerie des Lila, Jareth opened the door for Sarah and they stepped in. Looking around the crowded interior, they quickly saw Ernest standing and waving them over. Sitting with him was the famous Joyce, and Sarah was surprised at how small he was. He was also wearing an eyepatch, which actually lent him a sort of pirate-like flair.

Seeing Jareth look at him, she whispered quickly into his ear, "Joyce has Iritis, remember. After his seventh surgery last year, he was unable to see lights, suffering continual pain from the operation, weeping oceans of tears, was highly nervous, and unable to think straight. He was dependent on kind people to see him across the road and hail taxis for him. All day, he lay on a couch in a state of complete depression, wanting to work but quite unable to do so. He's doing a little better this year, thanks in large part to Hemingway, who is not only helping him keep his spirits up, but smuggling his books into the States for him."

He nodded, and she saw an expression flicker across his face that she could not read. Once they reached the mens' table, Jareth introduced her to Joyce.

"Jim, it has been far too long since I've seen you. We must reconnect." Joyce, too, had an unreadable look on his face when speaking to Jareth, but nodded and shook Sarah's hand warmly. He pulled her in closer by her hand, peering into her face. Sarah did not take offense at this. She knew that his vision was incredibly bad right now. There were times in his career that Joyce had to do his writing on large pieces of paper with a red crayon.

By this time Hemingway had stepped over and enveloped Sarah in one of his famous bear hugs, lifting her feet off the floor and leaving her breathless. She laughed as she hugged him back. "Ernest! You take a girl's breath away!"

He gently set her down and kissed her on the cheek. "Now that's a compliment I'll remember, coming from someone like you, Sarah," he smiled.

He had ordered a round of French 75's for the table earlier, and they had arrived. "Took the liberty of ordering these for everyone on this round," he said, "They're great if you love champagne, as I think we all do, and they'll give you a kick in the ass, which we all need." He winked at Sarah.

Sarah held hers and inhaled the scent of the drink. Champagne, gin and lemon. Their first night here, Jareth had said something about these drinks being named after a lethal piece of artillery from the war. She'd never found out more than that, and wanted to know more, so she asked Ernest.

"Ah, the French 75. French 75's are made with a standard pour of gin and topped with Champagne and a twist, so it's a strong drink in a sparkling dress. It's named after the French 75-mm field gun, which was commonly used in the war.

Perhaps no gun in the twentieth century will go down as influential as the French canone de 75mm Modelle 1897. Gun is a misnomer. The damn thing is a cannon. When it was first introduced, it was a decisive improvement over the artillery of all other nations. By the outbreak of the War, its secrets had been already imitated by the other belligerents, but its usefulness was limited more by the nature of trench warfare than by any erosion of the French advantage. Where circumstances favored the use of light field pieces, the 75mm gun earned its reputation.

Field artillery consists of guns light enough to travel with an army on the march, and light enough to be deployed on a battlefield while an engagement is being organized. "Light" is a relative term; teams of horses were needed to pull these guns into position. The loss of beautiful horse flesh in this war was criminal. Mark my words, when Germany moves again, and it will, the next war is not going to involve horses."

Ernest clearly loved having an appreciative audience, and Sarah loved hearing about history as it was made from one of the world's greatest authors and a war correspondent, no less. She gave him her rapt attention.

He put his arm around her shoulders and held out his glass for a toast. "What shall we eat toast to?" He boomed.

Joyce held up his glasses and called out, "Come on you winefizzling, ginsizzling, booseguzzling existences!"

His toast engendered cheers from around the room. Sarah loved Joyce's way with words; it was one of the reasons he was one of her favorite writers. Jareth had pulled out a chair for her and seated her next to Joyce, while he sat on the other side of Earnest. He then placed an order of escargot and a cheese plate for the table.

Sarah got right down to business with Joyce. She knew he could be enigmatic, but she also knew there were so many things she wanted to learn and that she had a limited time. So she decided, rather than pretending to have a conversation, that she was going to lead this almost as an interview.

"James, may I call you James?" She asked.

"Jim is fine. So you're married to O'Rourke are you? Would you happen to be Irish as well?"

"I am," she answered proudly, only to be taken down a peg when he said, "Well, I'm sorry to hear that."

As her face fell, he let out a gentle laugh and touched her arm. "Don't mind me," he said. "I have a love-hate relationship with Ireland. Dublin, now and forever, will be my heart. However, as I said in Dubliners, it's a hopelessly stagnated place. I've tried to hold up a mirror to the people of Dublin, so that they may grow and progress, but that hasn't always been accepted kindly."

"Would you mind if I asked you about Ulysses?" She asked. He nodded.

"So much is made of the literary allusions, the structural basis in Homer's The Odyssey, and other aspects of Ulysses. Is there really anything _to_

that?" she asked.

"That's what makes it easy to forget that I'm sending up many of these stuffy conventions. My big joke was to use Homer's structure to tell a story filled with masturbation and scatological jokes, even while littering the work with obscure references to keep critics and professors jumping through hoops. In other words, when you study Ulysses, _I am_ laughing at _you_."

All she could do was stare at him, a big open smile on her face. Joyce smiled right back. Her eyes were shining, then she was shaking her head back-and-forth. "I do not know what to say", she replied. "Only that you have just given me the most thrilling answer I could've ever hoped for." She laughed.

At that point, a large red faced man, invariably drunk, approached Jim. "Yer dat Joyce feller, aintcha? Da one wrote da fillty and godless book gotcha trown outta country?" His drunken and working class Irish accent was so thick it was hard for even Sarah to understand him.

"Could be," mused Joyce. "Have you actually been _able_ to read my book?" While the drunk mused on this insult, Jim made it worse by adding, "Your wife was sitting on my face most of the time I was writing it, so I can't be held accountable for everything there."

The drunk gave a garbled roar of fury and charged at Joyce, who deftly stepped behind Hemingway and said, "Deal with him Hemingway, deal with him!"

Apparently this had happened before and these two had it down by now. Joyce was far too frail to win in any bar fight, and Hemingway was always looking for one. Within a second, he saw the large, angry drunken man charging toward him and met him like a brick wall might meet a charging bull.

Not only was Hemingway a large, heavily muscled man who was extremely fit, he was also a pugilist. You could tell that he was thrilled to jump into this fight.

And so, apparently, were others. Jareth's eyes lit up like it was Christmas, and he waded into the fray. The last she saw of him before the crowd swallowed him up and Joyce dragged her out of there, he had dealt out a particularly vicious head butt to someone, whose shirt he'd then grabbed, and threw the man across the room.

It was almost like a scene out of the old westerns that her granddad like to watch. She had never seen anything like this before. Joyce was holding her by the hand and the two of them ducked behind the bar. He was laughing hysterically. He picked up a bar tray to shield them from flying debris.

He had also grabbed a bottle of Macallan whiskey in his other hand. When she looked at him, he said, "Weapon, or celebratory drink later. Makes no difference." Just then, amidst the the brawl and the breaking furniture, she could hear the sirens of the French police.

James, still holding her hand in one of his, the bottle in the other, headed for the side door. She could see Hemingway following them. Where was Jareth? Suddenly she felt hands on her shoulders and knew that it was him. The four of them made their way quickly out of the café, leaving behind wreckage and a continuing brawl. All four of them were laughing uncontrollably as they hid in a nearby alley.

"So, who wants a shot?" Joyce asked.

**The story about Joyce and Hemingway being good friends is true. It is also true that Hemingway helped to smuggle Joyce's books into the United States, as they were banned for 25 years. In addition, the routine of Joyce picking a fight, standing behind Hemingway and telling him to take on the opponent is also true, and it actually happened frequently enough so that Hemingway had it added to his obituary.**


	16. 16 Anything Goes

"At any given moment, the brain has 14 billion neurons firing at a speed of 450 miles per hour. We don't have control over most of them. When we get a chill...goose bumps. When we get excited...adrenaline. The body naturally follows its impulses, which I think is part of what makes it so hard for us to control ours. Of course, sometimes we have impulses we would rather not control." – Sarah O'Rourke

~1926~

As it was such a warm evening, they decided to walk back to the Ritz. Linking arms, the four of them walked down the sidewalk abreast of one another, occasionally unlinking arms for a swig of the purloined whiskey.

While they recalled the events of the evening, Sarah was laughing hysterically. All three men were terribly funny in his own right, and when they were put together, one found oneself laughing so hard that it was difficult to take a breath.

Jareth started to do an imitation of Joyce's Irish accent, which led to Joyce doing an even better one of Jareth. Hemingway was laughing heartily, which had both James and Jareth doing joint impersonations of _him_. The funniest one, she decided, was James pretending to be the Goblin King.

Wait - _Goblin King?_ How did he know? Was he?

"…. and will _somebody_ get me a bloody goblin to kick?! I'm in a _vile_ fucking mood and I'm going to take it out on _everyone_! Oh, and _where_ is my mirror?" Joyce was finishing. Even his hand gestures were perfect.

Jareth was laughing so hard at this that he was almost stumbling. Sarah looked at Hemingway, pointed at Joyce, and mouthed the word "_How_?"

James, who was walking right next to Sarah, saw her silent question and answered, "Yes, lass, I'm afraid it's true. I belong in Jareth's Basket of Deplorables. Or Hopeless Outcasts."

"Or Despicable Riffraff." suggested Ernest.

"Cradle of Cretins!" cried out Joyce.

"Dregs of Society," added Jareth.

"Reckless, Repellant, Reprehensible Rabble!" from Joyce.

"That we are," agreed Hemingway.

Jareth polished off the bottle and smashed it in the gutter. "Speak for yourselves, boys. My lovely lady is an outlier as well." Sarah could feel both James and Ernest turn to look at her in the dark. She grinned.

"I knew it!" cried Hemingway.

"I've just met her loveliness, but I cannot say as I am surprised," added Joyce.

Even from several feet away, Sarah could feel Jareth's pride in her. It was almost like a physical warmth.

They had reached the steps of their hotel. They unlinked arms and headed for the bar. Jareth picked up two bottles of excellent Irish whiskey, and a French 75 for Sarah, because, he said, she'd never gotten to finish hers.

They headed up to Sarah and Jareth's suite, where they made themselves comfortable in the drawing room. Jareth started a fire in the fireplace, and the men began playing "Mille Bornes", a French card game that meant "A Million Milestones." Sarah had never cared for cards, so she perched on the arm of Jareth's chair and watched.

It was only then that Sarah got a good look at Ernest and Jareth's faces. They were both bloodied, bruised, and scratched. Both men, it seemed, wore these battle scars as a badge of honour. They seemed to have no interest in cleaning and patching them up.

Jareth caught her looking at him, grinned, and pointed to his face, raising his eyebrows in question.

She nodded yes. He simply blew her a kiss and continued playing cards.

Sarah finished her drink, found it delicious, but also found it had hit her extremely hard. She decided to go to bed, wishing everyone good evening, and giving Jareth a good night kiss on one of the few unbruised areas of his face.

When she woke up the next morning, she could feel Jareth's hard body pressed up against her back, holding her in his strong arms. She kissed his forearm, then snuggled against him. She could hear a deep chuckle from him.

"I noticed last night that you had come to bed in a négligée," he commented.

"Of course I did," she said. "We had guests in the suite, I wasn't about to be caught running around in the nude."

"True, true," he agreed. "That does make sense. And don't get me wrong, this lovely little confection you're wearing is very becoming. It's just hard to get my hands underneath it. I want to touch you!"

She smiled to herself. She could feel that he was clearly wearing nothing.

"Have you cleaned yourself up yet?" She asked. "Or do you plan on looking like Rocky Balboa for the rest of this trip?"

He turned her over to face him. His beautiful face was perfect once again. "Morning," he smiled.

"Mmmm. Morning to you too, gorgeous!"

"I am that," he agreed. Sarah snorted.

"Oh," he grinned. "I'm sorry, was this the point where I was supposed to dole out false humility?" Sarah began laughing.

"You, too, are gorgeous, my love," he said, and went in for a long, slow, deep kiss that left Sarah breathless.

"Happy honeymoon to me!" Jareth breathed. "I get to make love to you every morning from now on if I want," he grinned.

"Mmmhmm. And _do_ you want?" She purred.

"You - I will _always_ want," he growled, reaching for the comforter to cover them both up. Sarah's giggles could be heard from underneath.

Sarah found herself in honeymoon nirvana. An unbelievable marathon of intense, incredible lovemaking, followed by falling asleep in each others' arms, waking again to make love and falling asleep again in a tangle of limbs, kisses, and sheets. She thought to herself that if she didn't have to eat, she could blissfully do this until the end of her life.

However.

They had a ball to attend, and it seemed to Sarah that it would be one of those events that would become a once-in-a-lifetime memory. So reluctantly, she dragged herself out of bed in the late afternoon, getting ready to shower. Jareth tried to pull her back into bed, his beautiful eyes pleading, "Just once more?"

"The Porters are having their soirée," she reminded him. "And I don't dare even get close enough to kiss you right now, because I don't think I can control myself."

Just to tease him, she headed off to the bath without her robe, looking at him over her shoulder. "And please don't join me. Like I said, I have very little self-control where are you are concerned right now, and I want to be sure that we get there on time."

Jareth groaned and fell back against the pillows. While he was waiting for the shower, he thought he had best order room service for dinner. Something light. He had no doubt there would be hors d'oeuvres, but doubted that this event would include dinner. It would, however, definitely include alcohol. Lots and lots of it. So he and Sarah definitely needed some food.

When she came back into the bedroom, Sarah was towel drying her hair and wearing the fluffy white robe from the hotel.

"I ordered us some food, love," Jareth said.

"I think that was wise, my husband," smiled Sarah. That word felt so good in her mouth.

They kissed and he made his way to the bath. Sarah sat down for a few minutes with her journal, writing down thoughts and soon to be memories.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. She opened it and saw the concierge standing outside the room. He had a very large dusty-blue book under one arm which he handed to Sarah.

"Bonsoir Madame," he smiled briefly and left. He left so quickly she didn't even have a chance to thank him.

Closing the door, she took the very large and heavy tome over to the sofa and sat down with it.

She read the cover, Ulysses, by James Joyce. Written on the fly leaf, in beautiful cursive, Joyce had written:

"To my lovely friend, Mrs. Sarah O'Rourke. Every life is in many days, day after day. We walk through ourselves, meeting robbers, ghosts, giants, old men, young men, wives, widows, brothers-in-love, but always meeting ourselves.

I am so fortunate to have met you – "

She read this over and over, her hand over her mouth. One of her absolute favorite authors, whom she had met, and with whom she had had a lovely time, had given her a first edition, signed copy of one of the world's best known books.

She was reminded of a comment that Jareth had made once to her about not being an ordinary girl. Well, she most certainly was not! How many people were fortunate enough to have a honeymoon like this, and meet people like this? Her eyes were shining when Jareth joined her in the bedroom.

His eyes looked at her curiously when he saw the book. Silently, she handed it to him. He started to leaf through it, and then saw the inscription.

"My love, you seem to make a wonderful impression on everyone that you meet. I knew that James was incredibly impressed with you, but this," and he indicated the book with his eyes "is a treasure. And it is a treasure for a very special woman."

She wanted to start re-reading the book right away, but there obviously was not time. Still, she had something lovely to look forward to. Hopefully she would see James tonight so that she could thank him in person.

Their food was delivered, and they had a leisurely dinner with plenty of time to get ready to leave for the Porters'. Or make that 'Les Portereuses''.

When they were done, Jareth asked her to pose in front of the large standing mirror in the bedroom. He sat on the bed, chin in hand, looking at her and thinking. "I'll show you what I have in mind," he said. "If you don't like any or all of it, I can certainly change anything."

Looking at her, he described an arabesque in the air in front of her, and she was done. Her hair was in wide curls, with a diamond headpiece that sparkled in her dark locks and across her forehead.

Her dress was a masterpiece of black silk, beads and sequins in an art deco design. It had only one strap, leaving the other shoulder bare. There was a slight train, which Jareth knew would look exquisite when she was standing on the beautiful curved staircase at the Porters' apartment. She wore a choker almost three inches wide which consisted of black diamonds around her neck. A similar piece was wrapped around her upper left arm. White diamond earrings cascaded from her ears onto her shoulders – very becoming against her shorter, beautifully waved hair.

Her make up has been artfully done, calling attention to her large green eyes and long lashes. Once again, he had given her a matte red lipstick which was just striking. He had also given her a beauty mark below her left eye, Which added to the exotic impression of her ensemble.

All he could do was stare at her. He thought these pieces might come well together, but had no idea they would be this mouthwatering.

She was smiling at him, nervously. "What? Is something wrong? Do I look stupid?"

He approached her, put his hands on her shoulders and gently turned her around to see the mirror. She gasped and covered her mouth, her eyes even larger.

Smiling down at her, he asked, "Well, what do you think? Would you like to do something different, or change anything?"

"No, no. Don't you dare. I don't think I ever want to take this off. Is this a Chanel?"

Jareth shook his head, a slight smile playing around his lips. "No, it is an original Jareth O'Rourke. Oh, and – "

Moments later, he had given her a very long, luxurious and glossy black fur stole. "I know what you're going to say, he said, reading her mind, "it's fur, and I know you don't wear fur. However, this is a very large elegant occasion, and quite frankly you would stand out if you didn't. No animal actually died for this, and couldn't you wear it for one evening as part of your costume?" He looked at her, smiling, one eyebrow raised in question.

She looked at herself in the mirror, the stole most definitely complemented the outfit. Plus it was chilly out this evening. What finally cemented her decision was Jareth reminding her that he had magicked this, and that no animals had died or suffered for it. She smiled at Jareth through the mirror, and nodded yes.

By the time she had turned around, he was dressed. Standing there in a black tux and tails with a white bowtie and raised collar, he looked exquisite. The long lean length of him, with his broader shoulders, made perfect lines for the tuxedo. He was wearing shining black dress shoes, carrying a black silk top hat, wearing white gloves, and carrying a cane.

"Oh, my," she breathed. "We truly are going to put on the Ritz, aren't we?"

She had also been given a small, black beaded purse, into which she slipped a lipstick and her camera.

"Are you ready, Mrs. O'Rourke?" he smiled and held out his arm. "Let's take the stairs this time. I've heard there's some paparazzi out there tonight, and I'd like to make them guess who we are."

He was right. As they descended the marble staircase, photographers called out to them so that they would turn and be photographed. The old fashioned flash bulbs were almost blinding at times.

Jareth placed an arm around her back and led her to the lobby, where there was a Rolls Royce Phantom waiting for them. He opened the back door for her, and they both entered the backseat.

When they arrived at the Paris apartment of Les Portereuses, Sarah's breath was taken away. The home on the rue Monsieur near the Eiffel Tower was a palatial house with platinum wallpaper and chairs upholstered in zebra skin. An impressive curved marble staircase lead people from the first floor to the third. There was a grand piano on every floor, so that Cole could play whenever the mood struck him, or whenever he wished to entertain guests. The ceilings on each floor must have been 30 feet high, and she lost count of the gorgeous crystal chandeliers. The home had been decorated in an art deco style, of course, and the huge windows reached all the way up to the ceiling.

Sarah had to remind herself to close her mouth while she was looking at all of this. She then noticed a server waiting politely at her elbow with a tray of champagne. She took one, smiled at the man, and said, "merci." Jareth did the same.

Suddenly Sarah heard her name being called. She turned around, and saw Linda Lee Thomas, Cole's wife, waving to her across the room as she hurried over to them. They all exchanged cheek kisses, and Linda looked thrilled to see them.

"Darlings! I am so thrilled that you could make it! It has just been delightful seeing you two, and I know you will help make this a wonderful party." Then she turned to Sarah.

"How would you feel about accompanying Cole at the piano for a while this evening? If you don't know the tunes, we have the sheet music. Cole is always looking for good voices to sing his songs. He'd rather just play as the poor love hates his own voice. I promise you it will be terribly fun! And it certainly will not be all evening." She gestured dramatically with her cigarette holder as she spoke.

Sarah smiled. Truly, this evening was already an embarrassment of riches. First, a signed copy of Ulysses from James, and now this. However, she could feel herself doubting her voice again, and shy of the attention this would bring. She threw back her glass of champagne and grabbed another from a different man as he passed. Jareth laughed at her.

Slipping an arm around her waist, he whispered a question into her ear.

She nodded, and told Linda that she would.

Linda clapped her hands. "Oh, that's just lovely to hear! May I take you to Cole right now, or would you prefer to wait a while?"

"No," Sarah answered. "I believe I would like to start right now." She looked over at Jareth, who smiled in agreement.

Linda led them up the stairs to the second floor drawing room. There, seated around a grand piano what is a collection of people straight out of Sarah's creative dreams and history.

Linda introduced them to everyone, starting at the far left of the piano and working all the way around. She tapped a seafood fork against her champagne glass to get everyone's attention.

"Everyone! May I have your attention, s'il vous plaît? I'd like you to introduce you to one of my very favorite couples. _Him_, I've known for a while, and she winked at Jareth, and his lovely wife I have only met recently. This is Mr. and Mrs. Jareth O'Rourke."

"Jareth and Sarah, may I introduce: William and Josephine Baker, Pablo Picasso, Renee Magritte, Sidonie-Gabrielle Colette and Henry Gauthier-Villars, George Balanchine and Tamara Greva, Isadora Duncan and Edward Gordon Craig."

Everyone nodded and smiled as they were introduced. Then Cole spoke up. "Sarah was recently my little songbird, and has the most beautiful, clear Irish soprano I think you have ever heard. I believe you'd much rather hear her than me this evening." He smiled and the crowd around piano laughed. "Do we have requests?"

Isadora Duncan asked for "Let's Misbehave," (One of Jareth's favorites,) followed by a request for "It's De-Lovely" and then "Ev'ry Time We Say Goodbye." Both Cole and Sarah needed a break after that, and both could have used a drink.

As if on cue, Scott and Zelda appeared, holding two Gin Rickeys apiece. They gave one each to Sarah and Jareth.

"We could hear you downstairs," said Scott. "We knew it had to be our Sarah! We also figured that you must be thirsty, and figured we may as well bring along a drink for this guy who follows you everywhere."

"Here's to Sarah and Mr. Sarah," said Scott with a wink. Zelda kissed Sarah on both cheeks.

They milled around, chatting with different individuals and groups. At some point, she found herself separated from Jareth, and saw him across the room with Coco Chanel. She herself was having a wonderful conversation with Josephine Baker, who she knew was an accomplished dancer, and lead dancer at The Folies Bergère. Josephine, who was African-American, found life in France much more to her liking than in the States, and later became a naturalized citizen. What they did not discuss, as it would happen in the future, was Josephine's civil rights activism in the States and her work for the French Foreign Legion during the war.

She felt Jareth approach her before he touched her arm. "Love, Cole would like to ask you something." She looked at him curiously, excused herself from the conversation, and met Cole back at the piano. He was beaming, and holding something in his hands.

"Jareth has told me that you are a classically trained violinist," Porter said.

"Yes I am," she smiled. She was pleased that Jareth had been boasting about her musical ability.

"I love the violin - but I never put as much into it as I did piano, so I'm really not good at it at all. When I heard that you played, and I know you already have an exquisite voice, I figured that, that you perhaps be interested in playing today.

Cool, that is such a compliment, and I'm so flattered. But I don't have my violin with me. That's when Cole handed her the object he was holding. It was a violin case, and she was surprised that she hadn't noticed that until now.

Shyly, he held it out to her. The case was nondescript and told her nothing of the instrument inside. But when she opened it, she could not contain a sharp gasp.

It was her violin. Or rather, her mother's. She had always wondered how her mother could've acquired it, considering granddad's income. And here it was.

Cole smiled shyly. "It's a …."

"Stradivarius Cremonenti," she whispered, reverently running her fingertips over the surface.

"Try it, please. I know we all would love to hear you," said Porter.

She carefully lifted it out of the case and begin tuning it. Cole handed her the bow.

She slid her left foot forward, placed the violin on her left collarbone and rested the left side of her jaw on the chin rest.

Slightly tilting the wood of the violin bow towards the fingerboard, she drew the bow in a straight line so that it was parallel to the bridge.

She began playing one of her favorites – Vivaldi's Four Seasons. She was certain that Cole would know it, and play along if he wished. She threw herself into the music, closing her eyes as she always did. When she had finished, she could not believe the amount of people standing around her. Hemingway had shown up by now as well, and so had Joyce. There were cheers and applause. Secretly inside, she was thrilled beyond belief. She was also very humbled.

When she turned to give the violin back to Cole, he gently pushed it back toward her. "No. This instrument is clearly meant for you. I have had it for such a long time, and it hasn't gotten the attention it deserves. After listening to you, I have no doubts that this instrument is yours." He smiled at Sarah and her eyes sparkled. It was as though certain loose ends were being tied together.

They stayed for several hours after that, Sarah alternately singing, playing, and conversing. At one point the photographer hired by the Porters had everyone lined up on the stairs for a group shot. Sarah wondered if they should, and Jareth assured her it was all right.

Once they had decided it was time to go, Jareth was able to magically unlock the doors, and they slipped away in the Phantom. Sarah was so tired she didn't even remember going back to their suite and falling into bed.


	17. 17 Ev'ry Time We Say Goodbye

"Never say goodbye, because saying goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting." – Sarah O'Rourke

~1926~

Sarah woke early the next morning, as soon as the sun began shining through the curtains. Thinking that this past week had been like living a dream, and she couldn't imagine that anyone, ever, had had a more incredible honeymoon. She propped herself up on one elbow, resting chin in hand, smiling, and watched her beautiful husband sleeping peacefully.

It didn't last long, though. He must have felt her watching him. His eyes remained closed, but a soft smile crept up on his face. He reached for her.

"Come here, you," he murmured. She laid down next to him with her head on his chest. They held hands, fingers intertwined.

"You were wonderful last night," he told her as he drew her closer.

"Mmmm. It was a wonderful night, and I have you to thank for all of this." She turned over and kissed him.

"Well, it's not over yet. We're meeting Hemingway, the Fitzgeralds, and Joyce for breakfast this morning before we leave. That's on Zelda's orders." He chuckled.

He rolled over, pinning her underneath him, gazing into her eyes. She stared back at him, and he bit his lip in an adorable lopsided grin while raising one eyebrow.

"Well, Mrs. O'Rourke? Any thoughts on how we should spend our last morning in Paris?"

"It's still our honeymoon, Mr. O'Rourke. I would be terribly disappointed if we didn't – " before she could finish, however, he leant down and claimed her mouth in a deep, delicious kiss. There was an involuntary mew back in her throat.

His voice had become husky. Slowly, he moved his hands through her hair as he said, "I'm going to take that for a yes…"

Several hours later, Sarah reluctantly dragged herself out of bed for a shower. She didn't want to leave Jareth in bed, she didn't want to stop making love, she didn't want their honeymoon to end, and she hated to say goodbye to the new friends that she had made, knowing she would never see them again.

After her shower, she saw that Jareth had made her a cup of coffee. He could tell immediately that something was wrong by looking at her face. "Love? What's happened? Is there anything I can do?"

She looked at him and her eyes filled with tears. Her lip was trembling, and so was the hand holding the coffee, so she set it down.

Jareth gathered her in his arms and they sat down on a sofa. He bent his head to look into her eyes again.

"Jareth, these wonderful people, I'm never going to see them again, am I?"

He sighed and held her close again, tucking his chin over the top of her head. "I honestly don't know, love. I'm not sure if it's a good idea to continue going back-and-forth yet. I've got some more things that I need to research once we get home."

"And none of them will be alive in my time, when we get back. Ernest will have shot himself to death, Scott will have died believing himself a failure, of a heart attack at only 44, Zelda will die in a horrible sanitarium fire while being treated for schizophrenia – " by this time she had worked herself up into a sobbing wreck.

Jareth held her even closer, rubbing her back, trying to soothe her. "I know, I know. You humans are so beautiful, yet so fragile. The creative ones, especially. This is one of the incredibly sad parts of time travel, I'm afraid. I had hoped to give you the most beautiful, unique honeymoon – "

"And you have!" She cried. "This has been absolutely unbelievable. The people I have met, the fun times we've had, the things I've seen, it's all been unbelievably magical. And I knew, I _knew_ everybody's life histories before I met them. It's just that, when they're alive and in front of you, it's so easy to push all that away. Now we're leaving, and somehow I just feel suddenly overwhelmed by tragedy and loss." She took a shuddering breath.

"We don't have to do breakfast, you know. We can leave right now, if that will help," he offered.

She shook her head with certainty. "No! No. I want to see them all again. I want to say goodbye. It's just going to be very hard for me not to fall apart and cry."

"I will be there," he said. "I will hold your hand, and I will remind you that even though the lives of these friends of ours ended tragically, they still lived incredibly, they made unbelievable contributions, and will never be forgotten. How lucky are we that we even had this chance, that we even got to know them, let alone consider them friends? How many can say that?"

He tipped her face up by her chin gently, and said, "You are going to be okay. We're going to go home with lovely memories, back to our loved ones, and we have a coronation to plan. Perhaps we can even start working on building our family?" he smiled.

She smiled at him through her tears. Yet again, he handed her a lovely linen handkerchief. She had lost track of how many times this had happened, and managed a small laugh. She nodded. "Let's go."

Breakfast was a wonderful affair. The same banter, much laughter, and Sarah felt so much warmth for her new friends. Shortly before it was time to go, Zelda invited them to their home in Nice. She was telling them how beautiful the city was, and what fantastic adventures they could get up to.

Sarah looked at Jareth, unsure how to respond.

"Can we get back to you? That is a fantastic invitation, but we're planning on going stateside for quite a while."

Both Scott and Zelda looked disappointed, but Jareth added, "You may, however, be seeing me in the future. I'm afraid Sarah has too many commitments at home to join us presently."

So one of them was an outlier, thought Sarah. In the past, Jareth must have seen one or both of them. She reminded herself to ask him who his outliers were later.

Jareth stood, indicating it was time for them to go. Everyone else stood, and gathered around them. As they said their goodbyes, Hemingway winked at Sarah and told her to keep an eye on Jareth. Zelda gave her a long hug. Sarah's eyes begin to fill with tears. Jareth saw this and quickly finished up the farewells and hurried Sarah away to the lobby.

He took her hand and led her outside to catch a cab. "Where are we going?" She asked. He just smiled.

"You'll see soon enough, love. I think it may lift your spirits."

He quietly told the driver where he wanted to go. Once they entered the seventh arrondissement, Sarah got the idea. Once they turned onto the Champs de Mars, the Eiffel Tower came into view, surrounded by blossoming cherry trees. There were large trees just filled with pink clouds.

She turned to Jareth with a huge smile on her face. "This is absolutely perfect! Thank you!"

They walked the area for several hours, holding hands. All of the beauty was so good for Sarah's soul. She leaned her head against his arm.

When she begin to become a little tired, she looked up at Jareth and asked if he would like to go back to the hotel.

He kissed her hand. "Absolutely, my love. Shall we get ready to go home?"

They had taken another cab back to the rents. As they climbed the stairs to their floor, Jareth asked if Sarah would like a change of clothing for going home.

She shook her head. "No, I'm feeling kind of sentimental. I'll probably never wear it again, but I would like to keep this outfit."

While Sarah packed up their few belongings, Jareth sent the violin into the future to Sarah's childhood home. He left an anonymous note indicating that it was for her mother.

She approached him with the small suitcase. "Did you get Joyce's book in there?" He asked. She nodded, then came to him and wrapped her arms around him tightly, ready to go home.


	18. 18 Home At Last

"Superstition lies in the space between what we can control and what we can't. Find a penny, pick it up and all day long you'll have good luck. No one wants to pass up a chance for good luck but is saying it 33 times really helping? Is anyone listening? And if no one's listening why do we bother doing those strange things at all? We rely on superstitions because we're smart enough to know we don't have all the answers and that life works in mysterious ways. Don't diss the juju from wherever it comes." – Sarah O'Rourke

~1991~

The trip home was much like the trip back in time. It lasted for almost 60 seconds, and was icy cold. When they arrived, they were back in Jareth's office.

While they were still in each others' arms, Sarah leant back to look into his eyes. "I have made a decision," she said.

He smiled down at her. "About what, love?"

"I think - I think I'd like to pursue immortality," she said tentatively. "I don't want to leave you, I don't want you to have to live without me, I want our children to be born immortal, and I think it will make me a more powerful Queen."

"You have no idea how much this means to me, love. I didn't want to influence your decision – I wanted it to come completely from you, but now that it's been said, I am so relieved and so overjoyed!" He picked her up and swung her around In circles.

They didn't hear the soft knocking at the door, so were surprised when Eimile walked in. She was beaming. "You're back! Thank the gods, you're both back and in one piece! It is so good to see you both!" She ran up to both of them, giving them a huge, three person hug.

Eimile's arm was smashed across Sarah's mouth and nose, and she was slowly suffocating in this warm embrace. Gently, she pulled the arm away so that she could breathe.

"Erm. Eimile. It's good to see you too," she rasped.

"And I'll bet you just have so many fascinating stories, don't you? I absolutely cannot – "

"Eimile, much as we are glad to see you too, do you think you could remove your finger from my eye?" asked Jareth. "Really. Right now. Before you bloody blind me."

She let them both go, Jareth rubbing his eye and shaking his head.

"I want to hear everything!" She squealed. "I can't believe it worked, I can't believe you're back and that you're okay – and don't get me wrong, but I'm so glad that Finn and I won't have to rule. I think he gets on my nerves more than you, J, if that's possible."

Sarah turned to Jareth and asked, "So exactly how long have we been gone, down here?"

"A week," Eimile replied. "And don't worry, no one's the wiser. They all thought you were Above, but no time travel. Oh, but –

something weird did happen."

Sarah and Jareth looked at one another.

"What, Eimile?" Jareth asked warily.

"Well we had a trespasser. Lovely young girl, beautifully dressed, she actually looked like you, Sarah. At any rate, she was in the library. Had the nerve to make herself a cup of tea, she did! When I asked what she was doing here, she smiled and said she lived here! Do you believe that?"

Once again, Sarah and Jareth looked at one another. "Did she give you a name?" she asked, tersely.

"She did," said Eimile. "She said her name was Saoirse and that I was her aunt! I left to find someone to help me deal with her, but by the time I'd gotten back she was gone."

Sarah looked alarmed and Jareth grim.

"Eimile, it's good to see you too and we will get caught up later. Right now I have some things I need to look after here in my office."

Love," he addressed Sarah, "You're more than welcome to stay here with me, but if you'd care to go to the bedroom suite I will be there shortly."

"Sarah," said Eimile, "You look pale. Can I get you a cup of tea?" Sarah nodded. Eimile picked up her small suitcase for her and they headed down the hall.

Later, when Jareth went to his room, he saw Sarah sitting in bed, head back, and a blissful look on her face. Spam was brushing her hair. Eimile and Ixonia were there, catching her up on the small details of things that had happened in the kingdom while they were gone. Not much, really.

Jareth stood next to Eimile, who was sitting on the bed next to Sarah. He just looked at her. "Well?" He asked.

"Well what? Say your right words," she sassed.

He rolled his eyes. "Shove over! Now!"

Eimile smirked as she scooted closer to Sarah, allowing Jareth room on the bed.

Eimile and Ixonia filled him in on the goings-on in the kingdom while they were gone, just as they had Sarah. Jareth nodded his head as if he were listening, but Sarah could tell his mind was elsewhere. Finally he said to Eimile, "Would you tell father that I'd like to come over for a meeting with him tomorrow? And that sometime this week, tomorrow, if possible, I'd like a meeting with the entire Privy Council?"

Eimile's eyes widened with curiosity, but she nodded yes.

"And now I need you two lovely ladies to leave us," he said. "My wife and I have traveled a great distance, and I think we could use a nap. And Eimile?" He called out as she got to the door, "Would you ask the kitchen to have something ready in about three hours?" Once again, she nodded, and they both left.

Spam was still there, holding the brush in mid air, looking to Sarah for direction. "Spam, I too, think you're a lovely lady," here Spam blushed, "Why don't you take a little bit of time off yourself? You know, go into the gardens, ask the kitchen for a snack, you could even go home for a little while."

Spam nodded, knowingly. "Kingy and Lady Sarah have something serious to talk about," she noted.

"We do," agreed Sarah. "But I want you to know how happy I am to see you again." Unexpectedly, Spam threw herself around Sarah's neck and hugged her.

Jareth was shocked. He had never seen a goblin hug anyone like that before. Although, if that anyone was Sarah, he supposed it didn't really surprise him all.

Once Spam had left, they both changed into more comfortable lounge clothing, and crawled under the covers together.

Sarah rested her head on Jareth's chest, as she often did. He circled her with his arms. Together, they both let out a big sigh.

"Love," Sarah began, "Let's not talk about the elephant in the living room right now, shall we? We obviously need to do something, but I just don't feel I'm up to it at this moment."

Jareth gave her a gentle squeeze. "Of course. I _would_ like you to get a physical work up tomorrow. Me too. I don't know if the time travel has affected us at all, but it's one thing that I feel we should check. We can use our local healer or, if you prefer, I know a doctor from above who will do the check up discreetly."

Sarah looked up at him. "I think I'd prefer a female physician from Above. And whatever is happening, I know that we will figure it out together. I love you so much."

He kissed her deeply, and pulled her closer. Then he made sure that the comforter was pulled over her shoulders gently. They both slept a much needed sleep for several hours.

When they woke, they ate and took a walk in the garden, reminiscing about their time in Paris.

"So," Sarah said. "You promised me you'd tell me who your outliers were."

Jareth smiled. "That's right – go."

She bit her lip. "Okay, well I already know about Ernest. I'm also guessing Scott."

"Yes."

"How about Zelda?"

"Yes again. She never got the credit she deserved, and frankly, I believe that schizophrenia was an incorrect diagnosis. Women at that time were just starting to come into their own, and to be more outspoken and independent. This did not sit well with some. Quite a few them, unfortunately, met with a similar fate, including Joyce's own daughter Lucia."

Sarah was quiet for a moment, thinking, shocked at this injustice.

"Okay, Joyce told me that he was one of yours."

"Yes, he was," Jared answered quietly. "The reason I seemed thrown off guard back there was because I did not know what a bad situation he was in with his eyesight. He had the ability to contact me, but I guess pride prevented him. I wish he had allowed me to help him more. You two really hit it off, didn't you?" He smiled.

"Yes, I thought he was absolutely hilarious. And that ridiculous bar fight that he started, all without getting a scratch on him - you seemed happy to participate though, didn't you?"

She was treated to the Jareth grin. "I enjoy myself a good scuffle now and then. Used to love rugby back at University."

"And what was with the headbutting? You looked like a football hooligan, not a king!" She laughed.

He laughed along with her. "One never knows when things in a pub are bound to become dicey. Besides, I couldn't use magic back there, could I?"

Still laughing, she said, "Cole Porter. Definitely."

"Right again," he agreed. "Cole was one of my easier ones, particularly because of Linda. They had a good marriage, loved each other very much, and made each other very happy, even though Cole was gay. Back then as you know, life was much more difficult if one were gay. Being married solved that problem for Cole, and Linda loved him and his companionship. An unusual match maybe, but they certainly made it work. Probably better than many straight couples I know."

"So far, you've gotten all of them," he said. "There's one more. We were not able to spend a lot of time with this person, however."

Sarah thought. "Were they at Cole and Linda's party?"

"Yes."

"Then I'm going to guess Josephine Baker. I was talking with her about her work with Civil Rights in the States and I know she was also known for aiding the French Resistance as a spy during World War II. She's incredibly intelligent."

He nodded, and smiled at her proudly. "You did it! Every single one for that era.

After the war, by the way, Josephine was awarded the Croix de guerre by the French military, and was named a Chevalier of the Légion d'honneur by General Charles de Gaulle himself."

Not for the first time in a week, Sarah reflected on the incredibly intelligent and talented people she had been lucky to meet in Paris.

They sat down on one of the teakwood benches with pillows and throws. There were quite a few of these throughout the Royal Gardens now, thanks to Sarah. She loved the idea, and for anyone walking through the gardens, it made for comfortable and cozy seating, especially at dusk or not nighttime.

Jareth spread the throw over Sarah's knees, then his own. He leaned his arm on the back of the bench behind her and looked at her.

"Would you like to talk about the immortality process, love?" he asked.

She nodded. Truth be told, she was both incredibly curious and equal parts nervous about how this would all work.

As she wasn't born mostly Fae, she was not, of course, immortal. However, for those humans with some Fae in her background, there was a process that she could undergo involving an alchemical change to her body.

Jareth gave her all of the details, told her what to expect, and assured her that he would be with her for the entire process.

"That's one of the reasons I would like to meet with the Privy Council, he said. As king, I have the right to do this for you, I don't need permission. I do, however, wish to make it known. The second thing that I will be discussing with them is your coronation. Again, this decision is mine alone, but I wish to inform them of this. Same with my father. He's on the council himself, but I feel I owe it to him as his son to tell him both of these things in person."

Tucking her hair behind one of her ears, he cupped her cheek in his hand and looked into her eyes. "Are you certain about this, love? I want this to be entirely your decision."

She nodded yes. "I look forward to spending forever with you." And she kissed him.

"Right. Tomorrow we shall see a physician Above, I'm going to introduce you to my most trusted alchemist, and I know that Ixonia is going to want to be involved, as her medical training will be helpful. Shall we set things up for the day after tomorrow?"

Sarah looked at him, eyes shining. "I can't wait!"

.


	19. 19 Don't Stop Me Now

"Who gets to determine when the old ends and the new begins? It's not a day on a calendar, not a birthday, not a new year. It's an event. Big or small. Something that changes us. Ideally, it gives us hope. Letting go of old habits. Old memories. What's important is that we never stop believing we can have a new beginning."

HRH Sarah O'Rourke

~1991~

Jareth woke quite early in order not to disturb Sarah. He headed to his father's palace first, to speak with him. He then returned to his castle, in the Privy Chambers, for a meeting with the Privy Council. By the time he had returned, Sarah was dressed in a silk robe, having a small glass of water at one of her favorite tables out in the garden. He slipped up from behind her and kissed her on the cheek. She smiled.

"How are you this morning, love? What are your thoughts on today? Any questions?"

"No," she said. "I'd be lying if I said I weren't terrified, but I think you've given me all of the information that I need so far."

"And in a bit the physician that you had asked for will be coming down. She'll give you your examination in our chambers for privacy. Then the Alchemist will meet with both of us, going over the process. I think I've told you everything, but he may have some further information that I have inadvertently left out." Said Jareth.

"Once you feel that all of your questions have been answered, we will be going to the Crann Bethadh – one of the Trees of Life - on the west edge of the garden," Jareth continued. "You may bring anyone with you that you choose. I will be staying with you the entire time – it generally takes 24 hours or so."

"You haven't eaten anything since last night, have you?" He asked.

"No, I remembered that part. Less to throw up, I guess." She shuddered. "I don't know that I want you to see me in that condition."

"Sarah, there is nothing that you could do that would change how I see you in my eyes. You are my love, my light, and my life. There is no way you can keep me away from you throughout this process. I will be there to look over you, and comfort you."

She smiled up at him, gratefully. He kissed the top of her head. "I believe that your physician is waiting in our chambers now. Shall we go? I will be leaving for that part to give you privacy."

Sarah liked the human doctor that Jareth had found for her. Dr. Lawrence asked many questions, gave Sarah plenty of time to ask her own, gave a very thorough examination, and pronounced her completely strong and healthy. She was going to be attending Sarah during the immortalization process. Sarah knew that, for eons, it had been done without modern medicine, but she felt a little better knowing that she would have this doctor with her. Ixonia had also insisted on being present. Sarah changed into the traditional linen shift and robe once the examination was done. She sat down to wait for Jareth and the Alchemist.

She didn't have long to wait. They entered the chambers and Jareth took her hand as he sat next to her. "Sarah, love, this is the kingdom's High Alchemist, Lord Ó Baoghill. Lord Ó Baoghill, may I present my wife, the Lady Sarah O'Rourke?"

Ó Baoghill was a tall man, in white and green robes, with deep brown, kind eyes. He bowed to Sarah, and kissed the back of her hand. He was entrusted with her welfare throughout this transition and would remain with her until it was complete.

Once both Sarah and Jareth had assured him they had no questions, the Alchemist pulled a large ceramic goblet from his case. He then began adding elements to it. Finally, Jareth handed him a bottle of the kingdom's finest wine, Sarah's favorite, and he poured in some of that, saying, "The wine will help to hide the taste and get this down. There are many herbs in this, in addition to mercury, lead, and arsenic. Those are the main three ingredients to affect your change. Now remember, you will not feel anything right away. Ultimately, the elixir will cause your human cells to die so that the immortal ones can take over. I know that you said that you have no questions, but I feel obligated to remind you that this will not be a pleasant process. It is infrequent, but on occasion, total death can also occur. You are to drink this right away, and then we will go to the Crann Bethadh to complete the process. Are the people that you wish to be with you available and ready?" Sarah nodded her head yes, and they walked out of the chambers to the garden doors.

Dr. Lawrence was waiting there with her medical kit. Ixonia was there with cold compresses and water. Spam insisted on being there, so she was given the job of carrying the pillow.

Sarah was handed the goblet, she drank it, although it took a while as it was so bitter. As she had been told, she felt nothing yet. Jareth held out his arm to her, and the party made its way to the tree on the west end of the garden.

Once there, Lord Ó Baoghill helped Sarah to lie down on a bed of moss underneath the tree. It was important that she have contact with the ground underneath the tree, as that would be part of the process. Spam was right there to make certain that she had her pillow. Ixonia applied essential oil of peppermint at her temples and the base of her neck to help alleviate pain and nausea. Dr. Lawrence gave her an IV of saline, sodium chloride, dextrose, and magnesium sulfate. These were basic chemicals that would help to alleviate the side effects. Nothing further was allowed, as it could interfere with the alchemic process. Jareth would be allowed to put her under a sleeping spell, but it would have to be mild and would not make her completely unconscious.

Spam had picked a fistful of lavender and tied it up with a bit of twine she had found. She knew that lavender had a relaxing scent, and thought that this would help the Lady Sarah not to feel so nervous.

Jareth lay next to Sarah, resting his head on his hand. Everyone else sat around her in a half circle. Slowly, the branches of the tree began to lengthen and bend as they touched the ground, creating a green curtain around everyone, almost like sitting under a willow tree.

Sarah felt self-conscious. Everyone was so solemn! She wasn't used to being the center of attention like this. She looked up at Jareth, smiled, and crossed her eyes, trying to get him to laugh. He didn't laugh, but gave her a slight smile and rubbed her shoulder.

"Does anybody know any good jokes?" She asked. "This is all so serious. Anything that starts with some animal walking into a bar is always a good one…" her voice softly tapered off as Jareth's spell took effect. Her eyes drifted shut.

No one spoke. While some of them knew what would happen, some didn't, and nobody knew exactly how things would play out. Sarah began coughing. This led to a sort of gagging sound and suddenly her back arched as she was struck by a seizure.

Jareth lay next to her, holding her. When the seizure finally ended, her face had turned white and she was sweating profusely. Quickly Ixonia removed the robe and applied the cool compresses to her face and neck.

She was still for a few moments, and then the gagging began again. Ixonia handed Jareth a small basin, and seconds later Sarah began vomiting up dark purple blood. Jareth held her hair back and whispered words of comfort into her ear. She was shaking and crying. Spam crawled over to her and asked Jareth a silent question. When he nodded an affirmative, Spam took Sarah's hand in her own tiny one.

Dr. Lawrence attempted to take Sarah's vital signs. Lord Ó Baoghill

shook his head no. "You can no longer look for healthy human vital signs," he said. "The process has begun, and the vital signs of an Immortal are very different from those of a regular human. I know you are all concerned, but you have all done everything you can for now. The rest of this internal battle is one that Sarah needs to fight on her own."

Slowly, the tree sent out a few soft green vines that slowly twined around Sarah's mossy bed. "Remember that this is a Tree of Life," Jareth said. "It can heal, and it can give life. Right now it knows that Sarah needs its healing energy."

As if on cue, the tree began making an otherworldly sound - somewhere between humming and singing. It was a beautiful tune, but nothing that anyone had ever heard before.

"That is Sarah's soul song," said Lord Ó Baoghil. "Every living being has one, although most cannot be easily heard. The tree is in contact with her, and able to share it. It's beautiful. The druids say that the more beautiful a person's soul, the more beautiful the soul song."

Jareth listened to the haunting melody. He wanted to commit it to memory. He wanted to be able to play it for Sarah sometime, so that she might have some inkling of what a beautiful soul she was. He often felt that she wasn't aware of that.

It was a long night. Sarah had seizures, was obviously in great pain, was feverish, and in and out of consciousness. Everyone did what they could, but waited on edge for the evening to pass.

While they couldn't see much through the green curtain of tree branches surrounding them, they were able to tell when the sun began to rise. It was then that the tree stopped singing.

Silence.

Jareth looked at the Alchemist, a silent question in his eyes.

"Yes," the Alchemist said. "Her human life has now ended. The Alchemical change should begin and she will wake a resurrected Immortal."

Minutes passed, then hours. Jareth , Spam and Ixonia were in agony. What if this wasn't going to work? What if she were really truly dead and never woke up again? What had they done? The Alchemist was trying to school his features, but Jareth could see that even he was becoming worried. Jareth had been staring down at the ground, when suddenly he looked up.

Kneeling at Sarah's head was a young woman, and she had her forehead pressed against Sarah's while her forearms rested on the earth.

Jareth did not know where she had come from, or who she was. He also did not know what to say. All he could manage was "What are you doing?"

When she looked up at him, he saw Sarah as she was when he had first met her. A beautiful young girl of 16 years old. And when he looked closer, he was chilled. The girl had his eyes! Could this be Saoirse? Sarah had said she was a toddler, Eimile had said that she was a girl.

"What do you think I'm doing, Da? I am trying to help my mother heal. You never think I'm capable of anything!" And she laid her head back down against her mother's.

"Saoirse?" He asked, weakly. The girl did not lift her head, but only said, " Who else did you think I _could_ be?"

After several minutes the tree begin to imperceptibly sing. As it slowly sang Sarah's song louder, they noticed that she was breathing again. The vines slowly and gently withdrew.

Saoirse lifted her head and grinned at Jareth. She was his child, all right. Even he could see the resemblance. She bent down and kissed Sarah on the forehead.

"Da, I know my comings and goings are confusing. Trust me that I'm okay, I'm just figuring some things out. It seems that I am an even better time traveler than you are!" then she winked at him and disappeared.

This indescribable event was overshadowed by Sarah's coming back to life. The song of the tree grew in volume, Sarah's breathing became more normal, and she opened her eyes.

Unable to hold back a sob, Jareth threw his arms around her and cried into her neck. He gathered her into his arms and rocked her back and forth.

Softly, Sarah said, "I'm okay. I'm okay Jareth. I did it! I didn't think I could, but I did!" And she pulled back to look him in the eyes. "We did it!"

In the coming weeks, Jareth realized that he had been figuratively holding his breath for a very long time, and now he could release it. He was not going to lose his Sarah. They would be together forever, unless forever became boring, in which case it might be fun to try another world or another dimension.

Her outward appearance had not changed much. Her hair was thicker and shinier, her eyes were greener, and her skin had a beautiful glow to it that was almost unearthly. She was enjoying her newfound strength as she pushed herself further and further in yoga. One of her favorite things to do became racing Jareth. She was amazingly fast, and could almost beat him. Her magical abilities would never be as powerful as his, but she was working on them daily, and making good progress.

On the day of her Coronation, just like her wedding, Eimile and Ixonia helped her to get ready, along with the Fae woman who had done her wedding hair and make up.

Also much like her wedding, the

Coronation bouquet was made up of white flowers – comprised of orchids and lilies-of-the-valley, stephanotis, and white roses from the four corners of the kingdom.

Her dress was a very dignified and elegant long, sleeveless white silk Shantung sheath. She wore a white and green sash (the colors of the kingdom) and on it the medal of Labyrinth Champion. After the Coronation, the medal of Queen Consort would be added. If there should ever come a time when the kingdom was at war, she would also be given a medal of Queen Regent.

She had had a variety of crowns to choose from. She could go with any of at least 50 historical crowns and circlets, or have one made specifically for her. She chose this route, and rather than having a heavy, gold, bejeweled crown, she designed a delicate silver circlet that looked like fine branches. There were three teardrop emeralds hanging in front of her forehead. These had been in Jareth's mother's crown, and Sarah was touched to have been given them. There was also something to be said for family gemstones being passed on in this way.

Jareth wore his full-dress military uniform for the journey to and from The Sacred Henge. While in the Sacred Henge, he wore a coronet and his King's robe over his uniform.

It was Sarah's idea for she and Jareth to ride horses to The Sacred Henge - an ancient circle of tall stones used for ceremony, seasonal celebrations, and marking time, the traditional place for the kingdom's coronations. Many monarchs had previously chosen coaches, but Sarah felt that seeing herself and Jareth on horses would make them seem more accessible to the people. Sarah had become an excellent rider by this time, aided in part by her new Immortal abilities. As a Coronation gift, Jareth had purchased a beautiful jet black stallion for her that matched his.

They met one another at the back of the castle. Sarah took Jareth's breath away. He could not believe that she was to be his queen. After all this time, when he had first met her in her little brother's room, he had no idea that she would become the love of his life, his wife, and his queen. He bowed deeply to her. When he stood up, she stood on tiptoe to kiss him for luck. He helped her to mount her horse, sitting sidesaddle because of the dress, and he easily mounted his own. Together, they circled the castle to the front, where they met the Sovereign's procession.

The Sovereign's procession was made up of 450 people, including The Royal Family, The Royal Cavalry, Prime Ministers, members of the Royal Household, civil and military leaders and the Yeoman of the Guard. They rode solemnly to the Sacred Henge, while the townspeople cheered and coronets blazed.

Once there, Sarah and Jareth dismounted and entered the center of the circle. Unlike previous coronations, every member of the kingdom was invited, including those who were not Fae. Much like their wedding, hundreds of different creatures circled the outskirts of the henge.

The Coronation service fell into six parts: the recognition, the oath, the anointing, the investiture (which included the crowning), the enthronement and the homage. Much of this was led by Jareth, Cillian, and Jareth's mother Brielle. Sarah had wanted to start making some changes, and she certainly was. Brielle was thrilled and flattered to be asked to be in officiant at her daughter-in-law's coronation.

Ixonia had made the anointing oil for the ceremony. The recipe for the Anointing Oil contained oils of orange, roses, cinnamon, musk and ambergris.

The Lord Great Chamberlain Finn presented the Silver Spurs, the symbol of chivalry, after which King Cillian, the former king and Jareth's father, presented a jewelled sword, and then the armills, the silver arm bracelets of sincerity and wisdom. Finally, The Queen-to-be received the the Coronation ring.

The Coronation ring, known as "The Wedding Ring of The Kingdom," was placed on Sarah's fourth finger of her right hand by Jareth in accordance with tradition. Thus was the coronation concluded.

The return route was designed so that the procession could be seen by as many in the kingdom as possible. Banners displaying the sigil for House O'Rourke, a White Owl on a green field, lined the 7.2 km route. It took two hours to complete the route from the Sacred Henge to the castle.

Thousands more celebrated throughout the country and the Commonwealth with street parties.

On the way back to the Castle, The Queen wore the newly-made Green Robe of Estate. The embroidered cipher of The Queen and border of shamrocks and thistles, took a total of 3,500 hours to complete by a team of 12 seamstresses from the Royal School of Needlework. The silk for the embroidery came from a silk farm in Lullingstone, at the far end of the kingdom.

Once they had arrived at the castle, they went upstairs to the grand balcony overlooking the city. Robert, Sarah's father, Karen, holding Toby, Jareth's parents, and Eimile all stepped out onto the balcony amidst much cheering. White rose petals showered down upon the balcony and the people below. Lastly, Sarah stepped out and stood at the front of the group. The crowd went absolutely wild. She was already proving to be one of the most well loved queens that the realm had seen and she had barely started.

Someone put an arm around her waist, and at first she assumed it was Jareth. Something, though, was off. This arm was more slender and delicate, and belonged to someone shorter. Looking down, she found herself looking into her own face at 16, but with two beautifully mismatched eyes. Saoirse grinned up at her with Jareth's smile, and gently placed her hand on Sarah's belly.

"See you soon, Mom!" She tiptoed up to kiss her mother's cheek, and disappeared. Jareth moved closer to Sarah, on her other side, and this time it was he who put his arm around her waist. She looked up at him with a smile of amazement. Then she took his hand and laid it on her belly. At first he looked confused, and suddenly his eyes widened. "You're pregnant! With a girl!" He whispered excitedly into her ear. She gave him a dazzling smile. "And we know exactly who this girl is, don't we?"

**Crann Bethadh = KRAWN-****ba-huh****.**

**Ancient Celts believed that the ****Tree ****of ****Life**__**crann bethadh possessed special powers. The tribal people of Ireland while clearing a piece of land for human settlement, used to leave a tree in the center; they called this tree the crann bethadh.**

**These people used to hold assemblies beneath the crann bethadh. The tree provided food, warmth and shelter to people. It also provided nourishment to other forms of life such as animals, birds, insects, etc. Therefore, the tree was described as a force which took care of life on earth. The Celts believed that trees were actually ancestors of human beings**** and gods.**

**Lord Ó Baoghill = O'Boyle**

**Alchemy = (I'll try to make this as short as possible.) Alchemy is the precursor to modern science. Medieval chemical science and speculative philosophy combined, aiming to achieve the transmutation of the base metals into gold, the discovery of a universal cure for disease, and the discovery of a means of indefinitely prolonging life.**

**Saoirse = SARE-sha Girl's name meaning "freedom" or "independence"**

**Da = Irish name for Dad**

*****Be sure to check out the epilogue!*****


	20. Epilogue

**Epilogue****:**

**Jareth's ****Lord Lieutenant****commissioned**** an**** artist to paint ****Sarah's ****Coronation ****State Portrait, which would hang in the grand staircase of the castle gallery with portraits of hundreds of previous monarchs of the kingdom.**

**I have decided to run many of my stories as a series. Hopefully, you have read both the first story, ****Ever****After****, the tale of how Sarah and Jareth got back together and obviously this one, ****Time****After****Time****. If not, you may wish to, as it can explain any gaps. **

**I have already begun work on the third volume, in which Sarah's baby is born, and the kingdom finds itself in a danger that it has never before seen. Thank you so much for reading my work, I'd love to read your comments, and I can promise you another fantastic tale for volume three!**

**There will also be a short story in October as the Royals celebrate Samhain. (The origins of All Hallows' Eve.)**

**Answers for a few questions: some of you have asked what the Lost Generation is and if it was real.**

**The Lost Generation is the generation that came of age during World War I. "Lost" in this context also means "disoriented, wandering, directionless"—a recognition that there was great confusion and aimlessness among the war's survivors in the early post-war years." The term is particularly used to refer to a group of artists, and particularly American expatriate writers, living in Paris during the 1920s. Gertrude Stein is credited with coining the term; it was subsequently popularized by Ernest Hemingway who used it in the epigraph for his 1926 novel The Sun Also Rises: "You are all a lost generation."**

**References:**

**Everybody Behaves Badly – M.M. Blume**

**Sylvia Beach and the Lost Generation**

**\- Noël Riley Fitch**

**The Great Gatsby – F. Scott Fitzgerald **

**A Moveable Feast - Ernest Hemingway**

**Memoirs of Montparnasse**** \- ****John Glassco**

**I ****Got The Show Right Here: The Amazing, True Story of How an Obscure Brooklyn Horn Player Became the Last Great Broadway Showman**** – Cy Feuer**

**Credits:**

**The incomparable Shonda Rhimes for the chapter quotes**

**Chapter titles borrowed from songs:**

**Charmed Life – Leigh Nash**

**Wishful Beginnings – David Bowie **

**The Unforgettable Fire – U2**

**Be My Wife – David Bowie **

**Brilliant Adventure – David Bowie **

**I'll Be Seeing You - Irving Kahal**

**Stand By Me – Ben E. King**

**Me Against You – Three Days Grace**

**Give Peace A Chance – John Lennon **

**I'll Take You There – The Staple Singers **

**Begin The Beguine – Cole Porter **

**I Get A Kick Out Of You - Cole Porter**

**Brush Up On Your Shakespeare - Cole Porter**

**Smoke Gets In Your Eyes - Jerome Kern**

**Welcome To Bohemia - Cole Porter**

**Anything Goes - Cole Porter**

**Ev'ry Time We Say Goodbye - Cole Porter**

**Home At Last – Steely Dan**

**Don't Stop Me Now - Queen **

**Go raibh maith agat! **

**~ Maire **


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